The End According to Potter
by black-heart-green-eyes
Summary: Severus Snape had always known Harry Potter was too weak to even attempt to stand up to the Dark Lord. The idea was preposterous. So when the boy appeared viciously wounded, inches from death, he really shouldn't have been surprised...but he was.
1. Grit, Blood and Pumpkin Juice

Alright folks, this is set just after the ending of the Order of the Phoenix and in reference to the future this story tells about, it follows the official plot until just after the escape from Gringotts in the seventh book, but any events after that have been changed as well as the outcome. It should become clear as the story goes on.

I do not own a thing here, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling and rightly so.

Enjoy.

Xxxxxxx

Chapter 1: Grit, Blood and Pumpkin Juice

Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts sat back tiredly in his adorned oak chair. Casting a heavy eye around the room he noted each of the objects that decorated his fascinating circular room-and particularly the ones that lay smashed into glittering grit upon the stone floor.

Dumbledore had just finished telling Harry Potter the unfortunate prophecy that had plagued the old mans mind for over fifteen years. Dumbledore didn't and couldn't blame Harry for his reaction, he supposed that the knowledge of the prophecy set upon the death of his Godfather only mere hours ago was too much for a fifteen year old to handle. He had seen his student truly crack under the pressure for the first time since knowing the boy.

As the grey bearded man waited, he didn't bother to repair the destroyed objects, To be honest Dumbledore felt as if he deserved it. The loss of some of those minor things would serve as a reminder of his mistakes and the consequences that were yet to be determined. He had a sinking feeling that their problems had only just begun, now the war was ready to be put into motion. He didn't know when or where the first stroke of the hammer would fall but he prayed it wouldn't be for another while-he needed more time…they all did.

Dumbledore was knocked out of musings by a single rap against the solid wood door of his office. Sitting up a little straighter he gave a soft 'come in' to the person on the other side. The door opened swiftly and was closed again with just as much steady speed. Severus Snape stepped into the room wearing his usual black robes, looking a little tenser than usual, if possible.

"You asked to see me Headmaster." he started, the tone of permanent indifference was very clear in his voice.

"Yes Severus" sighed Dumbledore.

Snape quirked an eyebrow slightly at the actions of his colleague. His keen, dark eyes ran over the usually mystical and cheerful room and he didn't fail to notice the fragments of various things upon the stone floor and a bit of the carpet. But he said nothing and looked back into the pale blue eyes of the ancient wizard sitting before him.

"I have just finished informing Harry of everything."

'Ah' Snape thought. "I take it Potter threw a tantrum?" Despite his uneasiness at the situation, the potions masters mouth curled up at the left side.

"Severus, you surely must understand what effect this knowledge will have on Harry."

Snape again said nothing, taking this as a rhetorical question. But then he quickly pieced two and two together. "That does not give the boy permission to vandalise your office Albus."

Here Dumbledore hesitated.

"I do not think that the destruction of my possessions had much to do with issues concerning the prophecy."

"Then why-"

"Harry lost his godfather tonight."

There was silence. It was a simple sentence, but there was definitely a tone of warning in the older mans voice to not dare make any humour out of the situation.

Snape remained indifferent. He had always hated Black and although he didn't wish him death, he didn't feel much in the way of sadness either. "I see." was all he said in return.

"There's more Severus."

That peaked Snape's curiosity. "I fear Harry may carry some trauma of tonight's events, not only concerning the murder of his godfather but also…" Dumbledore's eyes turned, if possible, even sadder "Voldemort managed to fully possess Harry tonight."

The horror and implications of that statement were felt in the heavy silence of that room by both its inhabitants.

"So if the Dark Lord has discovered the usefulness of the link between them, what is to stop him using it again?" Snape hissed in irritation, almost as if it was Harry's fault. "He could find out everything, my role as a spy, information on the order…anything!"

"I'm well aware of that and although I'm pretty confident another full possession will not take place, there is no doubt of the danger the link poses."

"If only the brat had attempted to actually learn occlumency, then perhaps we would not even having this discussion!" Snape spat, looking livid. He'd be damned if he was killed because Voldemort discovered him through Potter.

"The past is over Severus" said Dumbledore sternly. "The fault does not belong with Harry."

'Of course it doesn't' thought Snape snidely 'It never does.' As if seeing this thought across the mans face Dumbledore frowned. But then as if not having the energy to be angry he just leaned forward, placing both palms on his large desk. "Look my boy, I know you and Harry have never seen eye to eye…"

A scoff was held back with difficulty. "…but you cannot deny the immense danger Harry is now in and not just his physical being either." Snape raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "I fear for Harry's emotional state. I was a fool to overlook all the previous events without taking care of the boy properly. No one, not even a fully grown wizard could live through all Harry has and not come out with intense and most likely hidden pain."

Snape didn't look at the man, he cast an eye toward the door.

"Potter seems fine to me" he replied coldly. Dumbledore closed his eyes, almost in a tired frustration. "But I see your point. Yet why are you telling me all this, you know I do not care for the boy?"

"I need you to keep an eye on him Severus. Not too closely, but look out for any unusual signs." When the greasy haired man opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, the other continued "No one has the keen eye that you do my boy and I'm not asking you follow him, just take his guard duty now and again during the summer. I fear Remus will not be in the emotional mind to notice anything unusual."

Snape grit his teeth. "Fine, but I will only take his guard duty once every two weeks, I do have better things to be doing" he hissed.

"That is sufficient Severus, thank you."

The dark haired man nodded and turned to leave, cloak sweeping behind him.

Xxxxxxx

The conversation between the headmaster and potions master about Harry's well-being had taken place a little over two weeks ago. It was half eight at night when the dark figure of Severus Snape swiftly made his way up the entrance steps to Hogwarts, absent-mindedly pulling his travelling cloak off him as he went.

Today he had had the immense pleasure of watching the famous boy-who-lived, as promised to the headmaster. Snape grit his teeth as he remembered foolishly agreeing to the whole thing. It was preposterous. Today he had an entire twelve hours standing guard, invisible of course, outside Potters summer home. As if he didn't have better things to do than watch one of the most hideously tidy houses in existence on the off-chance that the arrogant child inside might be attacked.

Snape held back a scoff as he swept down the corridor. The brat was fine, even the Dark Lord couldn't find him in that horrendous place. 'Potter didn't even leave the house once.' Snape thought irritably 'There's no point wasting guards on him!'.

Despite him being a clever man, the fact that Harry hadn't even stepped outside once didn't occur to Snape as unusual. Oh he knew Harry as inside, having seen the boy looking out of his bedroom window once in a while, but other than that he hadn't seen him. The best part of that particular day for Snape had been only an hour earlier when he had been relieved of his guard duty by Remus Lupin, not that he had been overly fond of seeing that particular man.

As he was on his way to report his recent activities to the headmaster, Snape was grateful for the immense quiet of the castle. Students had left for the Summer just over a week ago and even most of the professors had gone home for a brief period. Generally the professors ventured home for a month of the summer and then returned to attend to the preparations for the school year. But this year there were a few not returning home for more than a few days, these belonging to the order of course. But even so the castle was extremely quiet, not a soul was to be seen. He knew that McGonagall was away on business for the order and that Flitwick had returned home for personal matters, but he presumed there would be some professors floating around. No doubt Trelawney was hiding away up in her room. Snape rolled his eyes upon thinking of her. He always avoided talking to her, for more reasons than one, but he told himself it was because she was an absolute idiot.

Finally he came to the torch lit corridor beholding the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office. As he stepped up to it, he glared, wondering what maddeningly idiotic password the old man had set on it this time. Due to his absence for the last few days, on both 'death eater' business and the nonsense with Potter, he didn't know the current password. Not one to look foolish and reel off every sugared item in existence Snape glowered at the offending gargoyle who was completely still.

But this of course, got him nowhere. So almost spitting the words out he snapped "sugar quill". Noting. "Chocolate frog". Nothing. Grinding his teeth he hissed "Bertie Bott's…". Nothing. Seething with frustration, he was tempted to curse the statue when the headmaster himself strolled around the corner towards him.

"Ah Severus…"

Said man turned to face the bearded man, eyes narrowed. Clearly Dumbledore had heard his uttering's. "You should know, for future reference, I wound tend not to use the password Bertie Botts, having disliked them since my youth, when I came across a vomit flavoured one. The only other attempt since, unfortunately yielded another undesired taste, although not as bad as the first." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he saw the twitch in the others eye upon hearing this story.

"As fascinating as that is Headmaster, I do need to speak to you about slightly more important matters."

The laughter in the wise old face fell a little and he nodded, turning to the gargoyle. "Nosebleed nougat". Snape, not quite believing what he had heard looked at the man as if he were mad…which was very likely. Dumbledore just looked at the man with no discernable expression "After you Severus."

When the headmaster had sat behind his desk, clasping his hands together in front of him, he looked to Snape expectantly. The latter remained standing, noticing that the very objects that had been smashed two weeks earlier were still in pieces, but now gathered and put onto a shelf in the far corner.

"Albus, I did as you asked. I watched Potter all day and there was nothing unusual to report."

Dumbledore could sense the annoyance and slight satisfaction at being right from the other man. "Well, no disturbances is good news, but what of Harry? How is he?"

"I didn't see much of the boy, but from what I did see he seemed fine." Snape said dully, looking at the headmaster with boredom. Dumbledore frowned slightly but nodded in acceptance. "What time did you leave there at?"

"Just over an hour and a half ago, the werewolf took over from there."

Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles in warning at the dark haired man, but Snape looked elsewhere.

"There have, however, been some movements concerning the Dark Lord" continued Snape. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Although he is infuriated about the fiasco at the ministry, I believe he is planning a breakout of those imprisoned in Azkaban. He has no need to hide now that the world knows of his return." A nod followed this. "He is keeping his other plans to himself for the time being, yet I suspect a move will be made to incorporate the dementors into his ranks very soon. But further than that, I cannot say.

"Thank you Severus" Dumbledore said quietly. "I fear that may not be all that is being planned but we must wait and let things unfold for the time being. But they must only unfold to a certain extent. I have called an order meeting for four days time. It will be held here, as I think further use of Grimmauld place is unwise until we can be sure of its possessor, until then-" Dumbledore was cut off mid sentence

as there was a sudden alarming flash of intense white light, blinding the two men. Snape hissed and covered his eyes with his arm, wisely pulling his wand out with the other. Dumbledore had stood up in shock, squinting against the light. They couldn't see anything for about three seconds until it suddenly subsided, leaving nothing to show it had happened…nothing except a dark haired figure lying motionless on his stomach by the door on the soft carpet.

"What the…" muttered Snape, turning, eyes wider than usual. Dumbledore however swiftly crossed the room, slowing as he neared the person. His blue eyes widened as he knelt down. "Harry?"

The headmaster laid a soft hand on the boys shoulder and that's when he noticed the state the boy who lived was in, but it was him alright. Snape approached slowly and he too saw the black shirt Harry wore, which was worryingly torn to shreds and splattered with what they hoped wasn't blood-not much more could be said for the remains of his jeans. Dumbledore gently pulled back a piece of the ebony hair that covered his face. Both wizards gasped as they saw the bruises and nasty scratches on his cheek and neck, particularly a long gash going down the side of his left eye.

"What is going on?" Dumbledore whispered to himself. He had just seen Harry a few weeks previously…he had been a little scratched from the battle at the ministry…but nothing like this.

"He needs to be in the hospital wing." Snape said, with much indifference in his voice, but his mentor could tell the man was a bit shaken.

Dumbledore carefully pulled the boy up s little, wondering whether to carry or levitate him and that's when his blood ran cold. Upon lifting the boy up, a dripping sound caught their ears, then another. Both men peered down and froze upon seeing the crimson substance that decorated the carpet and more horrifically, the dark seeping stains coming from the boys stomach and heart…there was blood everywhere. That moment was when a terrified shout of 'Poppy' was to be heard through Hogwarts.

Xxxxxxx

Professor Dumbledore had raced down to the infirmary carrying the boy, with professor Snape in his wake. It had only taken a minute at the speed they went, but Dumbledore felt it was a minute too long. Poppy had been absolutely shocked and terrified, yet her inner nurse took over as she immediately was at the boys side with potions and swiftly moving her wand over him in rather complicated motions before the skin and tissue began knitting itself together in a sickening fashion. At this moment, Dumbledore was standing watching, fear etched into every wrinkle on his old face. His hands were covered in Harry's blood but he took no notice of that. What had happened? There was no possibility Voldemort could have reached Harry in such a short time-especially at Privet Drive. But then who did this?

His eyes found the potions master who was standing back away from the scene, looking paler than usual. Snape wouldn't meet his eyes.

Two hours later, Harry was lying in one of the beds, bandages covering the deep and dark patches, the smaller scratches had been healed, but the bruises were still there and the gash down his eye, although it was cleaned. Even with the potions and healing that had been done, the boy still look worse for wear. The wound in his heart was of particular worry to the medi witch, and the fear was visible on her pale face as she approached the two professors.

"Albus" she called shakily. The man looked up from his chair and stood, Snape even moved over to hear what was said. Even if he didn't like Potter, he couldn't help wonder how this happened and how much Voldemort must have discovered.

"Well Poppy?"

She looked flustered and her eyes were creased with worry. "Albus I don't understand how this happened. I don't wish to say this about the boy, but no one could have survived that wound. He shouldn't have even lived through the stomach puncture…but this one…it went right into his heart Albus! It's impossible to live through something like that. But even worse, I've been able to heal most of the damage, but Harry will be badly scarred by that. There's only one possibility as to why I couldn't heal it, he must have been stabbed with a cursed blade."

The remaining colour drained from the headmasters face. Snape however, turned his eyes to the figure in the bed and frowned. "But he is out of mortal danger?" put in Dumbledore.

"Yes" she sighed "Thank heavens, I used the entire supply of phoenix tears- but I don't like the fact he isn't fully healed Albus, it will take quite a bit of recovery before that wound fully heals and scars over. The stomach wasn't as dire and it healed fully, so it likely wasn't pierced with the cursed item. But the heart certainly was and it isn't right…though his tissue has been healed. As for the cut down the side of his face, that will not fully heal yet either, although it might not scar as it isn't as deep and concentrated. Perhaps with continuous ointment it might recede, but I'm certain that was done with the same blade that caused the large wound." Dumbledore nodded solemnly "Was there anything else?"

She nodded "Broken arm and fractured shin, which are healed, three broken ribs and seven broken fingers-also taken care of. He now just needs to rest and take it easy…but there was also extensive scarring all over his body Albus. Both recent and older ones, particularly around the heart and neck area and not just due to the current wounds…" Madame Pomphrey looked up at the headmaster, paler in the face than she had ever been.

"Albus what happened to him?" she whispered.

"I don't know Poppy, we will only find out when Harry wakes."

A dull pain was coming from somewhere, yet he didn't know where. Harry groaned, or tried to, but no sound came out. Everything felt fuzzy and numb. Where was he even? He had no clue. As his senses came back to him slowly he lay there, not moving, trying to think. What was even going on?

A few moments passed. There was a very heavy feeling around his head, nothing felt right or even real. To heavy to even move. What was the last thing he remembered?"

Finally getting more feeling back in his body, he cracked an eye open. He was in a dimly lit, large room. 'Weird, it looks like the hospital wing' he though sleepily. That was when an unpleasant lurch gave out in his stomach and it all came flooding back.

Instant panic and a feat of impossible strength caused Harry to sit up impossibly fast, completely forgetting his injuries in shock, head flying to his surroundings. 'What is going on? His head screamed at him. 'This isn't right!'

A searing pain shot through his chest, he hissed but ignored it. 'I have to get out of here, this isn't real, it's a trick…' his mind flooded with thoughts before he was driven back to sanity by a touch on his right arm. Bright and rather fearful green eyes found the face of Albus Dumbledore. Harry's face paled considerably, then the sound of footsteps drove his head to turn and look at none other than Severus Snape. Seeing this man was more than Harry could take, he stared at him in fascinated horror.

"Harry…"

The head snapped back to the first face. 'Its not real. Don't believe it for a second, its just another trick.' Harry repeated this to himself, when once more he felt a hand on his arm. That was when he snapped. "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" he yelled rather hoarsely, but no one doubted the mix of anger, fear and shock in the tone.

In pure shock Dumbledore let go and Snape's eyes squinted in confusion.

"I've had enough mind games" the boy choked out.

Both men turned and looked to ach other. What was going on?

"Harry? it's me, Professor Dumbledore. " said the man softly. But this was met with a slow shake of the head. "No you're not."

That statement was not one the two professors were expecting or prepared for. "What's the last thing you remember Potter?"

Harry flinched at the cold tone, but he was too tired to get angry again. Yet he didn't answer.

"Harry-what age are you?"

Snape looked at the headmaster as if he'd gone mad. But that thought quickly disappeared as he heard the reply. "Seventeen."

The two professors stared at the boy, Dumbledore's eyes crinkled in worry. Maybe the boy had hit his head, or was there more to this?

There was a pause in the air. "Don't be so foolish Potter, you're only fifteen!" Snape snapped with annoyance at the oddness of the whole situation. Potter had obviously had a serious blow to the head or something. Dumbledore frowned at the mans lack of patience but said nothing, too focused on watching the boy in front of him. He could see an array of emotions crossing Harry's face, confusion, doubt, fear…hope?

"Fifteen…" he breathed "…tha-that can't be right…"

The boy-who-lived grasped his head in confusion. What about all that had happened? Was he going crazy? If Dumbledore and Snape were here…what about Ron and Herm-'NO!' he mentally screamed 'Don't think about them. Anything but them!'

Dumbledore meanwhile, didn't want to tax Harry with any further questions, he could see the immense distress building upon Harry's face. He fetched Madame Pomphrey from her office, who immediately bustled over fussing about how Harry shouldn't be awake. The boy just stared at her as she held out a potion to him. As if too drained and scared to argue he downed it in one and fell back onto the pillows in a deep sleep.

Xxxxxxx

Harry awoke much later to silence. He found his glasses had been removed and placed beside him on the nightstand. He took them slowly. If felt like a long time since he had done that same action. Sitting up carefully, he noticed he was alone in the dark hospital wing. He looked down at himself marvelling at his ability to move and the lack of pain-except from the major wound. Flexing his fingers he looked up and around.

It must have been the early hours of the morning, yet he could see the light coming from the matrons office a little way down, obviously she was awake in case of emergency with him. Harry sighed softly. He still couldn't remember how this had happened. There was no way he could be back in the past, could there? I mean, yes there were time turners, but they all got destroyed but even so, he wasn't sure if you could travel back two years! Listening for any sounds and finding nothing, Harry slid out of bed, his bear feet touching the floor. He then noticed he had been changed into simple deep blue hospital wing pyjamas. Not caring for the cold beneath his toes, he stood up. As he did, a sting of pain ran up through his chest, he gasped softly and clutched at the area over his heart. He had almost forgotten he was injured. Biting his lip he managed to pull on a dressing gown that was hung across the chair next to his bed and he silently slipped out of the wing into the moonlit corridor.

Looking around at the large and familiar halls he couldn't shake the feeling of sadness, it was as if he as visiting a friend he hadn't seen in a very long time. Walking slowly, and carefully due to his injury he found his way to a window two corridors down. There were no torches lit anywhere, but he could see his surroundings by the pale light from outside. Pressing a hand against the window pane he wiped away some of the moisture. A soft intake of breath followed the beautiful and quiet sight of the Hogwarts grounds. His stomach flipped as he noticed Hagrid's little hut set into the scene nicely, even more astounding was the curling tendrils of smoke that were rising from the small chimney there.

Harry blinked and stepped away. He was too afraid to believe it all. Life could not be that merciful, not after everything he had witnessed. He hadn't told Dumbledore even half of what had happened…or was yet to happen. He groaned in annoyance. Why couldn't someone just explain what was going on. Would he be a fool to simply accept that he had wound up in the past after everything? It had occurred to Harry that this might be another type of place, but he concluded if that were so, his parents would be here too.

Sighing he wondered on further until he came to the staircase leading down toward the entrance hall. Carefully grasping the sides of the stair, he mentally begged it not to change destination as the stairs loved to do. But it didn't. Slowly he made his way down, wincing at each step downwards, as it sent a ring of pain through his thin body.

Once down, e looked around, Still no one could be seen and Harry was thankful for it. He wanted to get a good look around to prove to himself this wasn't some sort of sick hallucination or trick.

He noticed that the huge doors of the great hall were shut, why would they be open at such a time anyway. He turned his attention toward the front door, its large bolts were drawn heavily across its frame. This didn't occur to Harry as unusual, for just then his eyes found four very interesting objects. The house hourglasses stood there, situated at either side of the doors like he remembered them. Immediately he looked to the Gryffindor one, its red rubies glittering in the dark. He couldn't help but smile at it. Once upon a time such things had seemed so important. Not anymore though.

He couldn't help his eyes sliding towards the green emeralds that sat within Slytherin's hourglass. But this didn't bring any rage to his mind as it once would have. It had taken Harry a long time to realise not all Slytherin's were bad and it was a lesson he would remember forever.

Turning away it did occur to Harry that if this was real-so much could be done, so much could be saved.

His mind began to slowly move into acceptance as he pushed one of the doors of the great hall open. They were obviously cast with a weightlessness spell, for otherwise moving them would be impossible for him.

Something got caught in his throat as he saw the huge space, filled with the house tables and the top one, which sitting neatly behind it glimmering, was the chair of the headmaster-'Dumbledore's chair' Harry reminded himself. Although happiness wasn't even a word that could explain the feeling Harry would have if all this turned out to be true, he couldn't help the grief that this place still carried and the emptiness of what had happened to it.

Looking up at the nights sky, Harry saw tiny little stars, each one peeking out timidly from behind smoky clouds. Not looking where he was walking, he bumped into the side of a table. Grinding his teeth he let out a sharp hiss of pain and glared down at the offending object. But that's when all anger faded. He had collided with the Gryffindor table. His heart beat loudly inside his chest as he looked down the length of the wooden mass and found the spot were he, Ron and Hermione had often say, laughing, talking, arguing, smiling… A sob of grief racked his body before he could repel it and he sat down in that very spot, both elbows on the table, head in hands and shaking miserably. Yet no tear left his eyes.

Trying to get a grip of himself ran a cold hand over his face. It was too painful to even remember them and that was what killed Harry. But here- here the house tables were intact, everything was as it was and Harry was well aware what that could mean. Perhaps they were here too, if this was the past.

He had no idea how long he sat there at that table in the dark, time didn't seem to matter as he was lost in his thoughts. His hopes and fears battled against one another until his head finally slipped from his hands and he fell asleep, head resting on the exact spot where Ron had once spilled his morning pumpkin juice.

Xxxxxxx

Reviews are welcomed, I like to hear what people think.


	2. Scraps of Information

A/N: One matter must be cleared up for this chapter and that is of dates. I am well aware the first book was released in 1997 and Harry's timeline in school should probably begin there or even before, but I thought it would be more convenient to use the seventh book's release date as the date of Harry's final year, meaning he would have been seventeen in 2007 and consequently fifteen in 2005.

This chapter isn't as long as I'd like but I don't want to just rush through the thought-process too much. This story will be more a focus on character rather than a complicated plot, but of course using situations in order to do it.

I own nothing.

On with the story…

Xxxxxxxx

The next morning found Severus Snape whipping around the castle in a fit of anger. He had been on his way to see the headmaster at eight o clock that morning, but much to the misfortune of his ears, he had run straight into a flustering Madame Pomphrey. She had been talking shrilly, much to the potion masters discontent and the only words he managed to string together were "Harry" and "missing". Of course, that had been enough to create a scowl worthy of his reputation. So here he found himself, searching for the brat. The headmaster had been alerted and even he too was performing a locater spell on Harry, which due to the enchantments around the castle would take time. He had mentioned that last night an inconsolable and panicked Remus Lupin had turned up at his office, claiming Harry had suddenly disappeared at some point that night. Lupin had no unusual activity to report and the only reason he had been alerted to the boys disappearance was that he heard Harry's uncle shouting for him to come down and when getting no reply, marched angrily up and then loudly proclaiming the boy to be missing. Luckily the man was loud enough for the whole street to hear and with Lupin's sensitive wolf ears, he had heard. After storming into the house and performing a magical search, he had fled to Hogwarts to alert Dumbledore. Snape was surprised he didn't hear the man, surely he would have made a ruckus over precious Potter. The headmaster explained that he had managed to calm him down, telling him Harry was in the hospital wing. Yet Snape doubted he told the man the extent of Potters condition and the suspicious circumstances surrounding the matter. The man had been a bit unhinged, in Snape's opinion since the death of Sirius Black.

He could also tell Dumbledore was relieved to have the students gone at this particular time. It would make everything too difficult with the nosy children wondering what had happened. Even Lupin was sent on a mission last night, both to get him away from worrying about Harry and to use any influence he had underground to prevent werewolf support of Voldemort. Snape had been told that Harry had been in his bed when Lupin was allowed to see him, but not wake him under strict command of the matron, to make sure he was ok. That was at three in the morning, so Potter obviously went missing sometime after that. He supposed the brat desired a nights stroll, as he was always so fond of in this castle, no matter how many rules he broke. And here he was again, completely disregarding everything else, because he was Harry Potter. Yet as much as he cursed the boy, Snape couldn't help but be a little alarmed somewhere within him, at the jumble of events and Potter out of bed in that state, when they weren't sure of what had happened yet, was even more worrying.

Sweeping down the steps to the entrance hall, he peered around. His keen eyes couldn't miss the slight gap in the great hall doors. Frowning, he stepped over to them and pushed one open with ease. The open plan hall, with its many tables and fireplaces greeted him. All of them empty of course, looking pleasantly odd with no loud students to fill them. However, not all the tables were empty. Narrowed eyes fell upon the Gryffindor table a little way up and upon a figure hunched over the table, motionless. Alarm gripped him and he made toward the boy, growling at how foolish he had been to be out of bed and down here in the cold morning. The boy was still, too still. Grasping his shoulder, ignoring the repulsiveness of touching a Potter, he gave him a probably overly rough shake. Upon hearing a groan, Snape dropped his arm in disgust. The boy wasn't dead or even unconscious, he was just asleep. Yet he couldn't held notice how cold he had felt.

"Potter wake up!" he snapped.

The boy jumped up suddenly, a smirk was almost instinctively about to form on the potions masters face, but then Harry cried out in pain, having wrenched the skin around his wound in his wakening. Biting his lip he breathed heavily, trying to regain composure over himself, not yet noticing the tall man standing beside him. His hand covered the source of the excruciating pain and it was only when Harry took it away did he see the blood, slimy and wet, on his fingers and looking down, he saw it oozing from behind his pyjamas and bandages. Snape caught sight of this and mentally cursed, grabbing the boys wrist to prevent him from touching it further. Poppy was going to kill him.

"Irresponsible… ridiculous…idiotic…what…thinking?…needs rest…self-absorbed…." This rant had been going on for a good ten minutes and he had been zoning in and out of listening to it all the way through. Severus Snape stood near the bed which held the reason for the assault on him by the furious nurse. His expression was unreadable as she attacked him, all the while attending to Harry's wound while he lay in a semi-conscious state. It hadn't been a very serious pull on the wound but because of where the wound lay, any upheaval to the healing process could prove dangerous. The heart was not an organ to be taken lightly and neither was the skin that protected it. The puncture to the heart had been repaired upon his first visit as much as possible, despite the impossibility of living through such a thing. But the intrusion in the skin and tissue which lay over it had not been healed and would need time due to the probable curse upon it.

As he eyed the teen, waiting for the headmaster to arrive, he noticed the slight improvement in complexion…well, it could hardly be called an improvement but while yesterday he looked like a corpse, al least today he looked somewhat alive, albeit very pasty.

Snape didn't turn when he heard the doors of the infirmary open, he just let Madame Pomphrey change her attack from him to the headmaster. Dumbledore put up his hands trying to calm the woman's rage. "Poppy…Poppy I highly doubt Severus had any attention of causing harm… he just doesn't have the gentlest way of dealing with things."

The nurse threw up her hands in exhaustion and anger and bustled over feeding Harry one last vial of amber potion. "He should wake properly in a few minutes. I don't want you overloading him with questions! But he might be in a fit state to answer a small few. Now, I need to write out a report on his condition and arrange a list of potions for Mr. Potter, so call me if there are any problems. I gave him a heavy pain reliever so don't worry if he's a bit groggy." With one last glare at Snape she hurried to her office and closed the door with a sharp, but not loud, snap. Dumbledore shook his head in amusement and slight worry. He was sure she would have slammed the door if Harry had not been resting.

"Although I do not approve of what you did Severus, I have no doubt the result was not your intention."

Snape gave him a plain look which clearly said 'obviously'.

A small sigh drove both men's eyes to the figure in the bed. Green eyes fluttered open. Although Harry felt very sleepy, he was somehow sure he'd had enough sleep.

"Morning my boy" tried Dumbledore, taking a seat next to the bed. Harry looked at him and pulled himself up in the bed as best he could, before peering at Dumbledore. "Sir, I feel-" "Madame Pomphrey game you a powerful pain reliever Harry, it is natural to be feeling exhausted."

He nodded, relieved that it wasn't just him.

"However, your glasses are on your bedside table. I sent someone to fetch your things from privet drive last night. I did wonder how you managed to get around the castle and recognise us without them yesterday."

Harry blinked. "Glasses?" he asked stupidly.

Snape frowned at him.

"Oh…" the boy said softly.

It had been a long time since he had worn glasses, it seemed like forever. He had gotten used to the slight blurriness and the lack of steady sight, forcing his eyes to work beyond their means. He had adjusted, he had to. As he placed the round spectacles on his nose, his world came into clearer focus than he could remember…he didn't know whether this comforted him or made him even more uneasy.

Despite the confusion, Dumbledore brought the matter to hand.

"Harry, I know you are unwell, but I think we need to talk."

Surprisingly, even to himself, Harry nodded. "I believe we do sir."

Glad that Harry was willing to tell them things, Dumbledore smiled. Harry however, didn't return the expression.

"First of all Harry, none of us have even the faintest idea of how you came to be here. Remus confirmed you were at your relatives until sometime yesterday, but then you disappeared."

"Sir, I'm afraid you wont believe half of my story…" Harry began uncertainly "…I can offer some proof, but not as much as you and others…" he took a glance at Snape "…might need."

"You would be surprised at what I am capable of believing Harry. But first of all, I must ask you, why did you believe you were seventeen?"

Harry swallowed. "That's where the problem starts professor, you see, before I found myself here, I was in 2007."

Dumbledore frowned. Madame {Pomphrey had found no head trauma or anything to induce memory loss or hallucinations.

"What do you mean Harry?"

"Well, this isn't my time. I don't know how, but I already lived out the years 2006 and 2007, yet now you tell me I'm in 2005, making me…fifteen?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"The only explanation I can offer is that somehow I was sent back, back to this body and time, but carrying my memories and other things…" his eyes strayed to his wound, "…which happened in my future."

There was a pause for about five seconds until a loud scoff echoed off the walls and Snape strode forward. "Potter, that is the most ridiculous story I have ever heard. Obviously your brain was addled somehow."

"Severus…"

But the potions master couldn't prevent his immediate arguments at what he saw as nonsensical notions.

"Headmaster don't tell me you believe this nonsense! How would anyone possibly explain the boy at one moment being in one time and then suddenly-looking no older-declare he is from another time. You and I both know headmaster that time travel does not work that way! If we are to believe his rather imaginative…" he sneered at Harry "…story, there would be two potters in one time zone, not one…so might I add that the logical explanation is this is another of Potter's typical pleas for attention or some pathetic attempt to-"

"Half-blood-prince."

Snape's world froze around him. He was sure he heard those words but somehow he couldn't believe it. His eyes raked towards Harry and found the green orbs, tired but determined, staring back at him.

"What did you say?" he grit out dangerously.

"Half-blood-prince." Harry repeated steadily.

Dumbledore frowned, looking between the two.

"Where did you hear that?" Snape spat out, advancing toward the bed.

"Your old potions book. I found it and used it in my sixth year."

Snape's lips were contorted in fury and his eyes glinted dangerously. "You lie!" he hissed venomously.

"How else would I know about it?" asked Harry, a tint of anger in his voice.

Dumbledore felt better not to enquire into this subject. "Harry, perhaps you could offer me some proof? As I have…somewhat a little more patience than Severus." He thought Harry might smile at that but the boy looked suddenly sad. " In my seventh year sir, I found out quite a lot about your past."

Now it was Dumbledore's turn to freeze and Snape frowned, almost looking curious, driving away some of his fury.

"Go on Harry"

"I know about Grindelwald and what you two were so interested in." Albus Dumbledore had never looked so ashamed until the mention of this quest for power. "And also about Ariana…"

It was then that the headmasters old face fell into remorse. Remorse mixed with shock. They was no way which Harry could have found out those particular details, unless he talked to some very particular people and even then…

It was then that the two men, each for their own reasons, felt their doubt at Harry's story lessen. "I know my story doesn't make sense, but it's the only explanation I have…but I don't know what kind of magic could have done it" Harry admitted.

"Nor I" said Dumbledore, recovering slightly.

"Potter those scraps of information hardly count as proof!" interrupted Snape.

"Look sir" Harry said quietly, "regardless of whether you believe me or not, I know how the war is going to end."

This brought a stunned silence into the air. "The war ends in your time?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry swallowed heavily, but nodded.

For the first time Snape stared at him in a curious manner, and somewhat willing to listen. Knowing what happens would be a major advantage…'not that I believe the brat' he told himself very seriously.

"Harry, I don't know how this happened, but regardless, you must tell me everything." the headmaster said firmly. Harry nodded numbly, he knew it was the only way to have any hope of a better outcome than the first but regardless, he was somewhat reluctant. He cast a glance at Snape.

"Would you rather you told me privately?" offered Dumbledore, but Harry shook his head. Snape had a major part in this and he needed to know everything too.

Xxxxxxxx

However the headmaster had managed to persuade him, Snape found himself sitting up straight in a wooden chair, arms folded across his chest and a frown in place, staring expectedly at Potter who was sitting up in bed, wrapped in fresh bandages and ready to tell them everything.

"So Potter? What happened?" he said impatiently.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Where to even start? There was too much to remember and most of it too painful to think about.

"I-I don't know where to start. There's a lot to tell."

"Would you like Severus or I to use legilimancy on you, perhaps that way-"

"No! Not that!"

They were shocked at how quickly the terror and panic had welled up in the teen and Dumbledore quickly apologised. "We can start small Harry. We don't need to know everything right now, you're still in need of rest."

The boy in front of them didn't reply immediately.

"It was horrible" murmured Harry. "So many people died."

The professors tensed.

"I just remember their bodies scattered all over the castle and the grounds. There was rubble everywhere." He shuddered involuntarily.

"So the attack took place at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, that's where the main assault began."

'Began?'

"Oh it didn't end there" Harry said quietly, bitterness lacing every word.

"Where did it end Harry?"

He didn't reply.

Dumbledore hesitated. "Perhaps if you just tell us the outcome?" he offered kindly.

Harry nodded.

The two men waited in silence, tension creeping through their limbs.

"I failed. He killed me."

Xxxxxxx

It was those last three little words that brought even Severus Snape's eyes to widen considerably as he stared at the boy sitting up in the bed. Harry refused to look at either of them, the silence filling his ears. But he hardly noticed. It hadn't taken him too long to remember the last events of his…future? Past? The memory, he was ashamed to admit shook him. Remembering ones death doesn't sound like an easy task but the reality of the situation was worse than anyone could imagine. Unconsciously Harry's hand found the bandage over his chest. No one could survive a stab through the heart and despite Madame Pomphrey's belief of the miracle, Harry knew it was no miracle. He had died in the moments the blade penetrated the organ. He was nothing special. And yet here he was, having survived again…somehow. Someone obviously sent him back…but who?

Lost in his thoughts Harry missed the looks of absolute horror on Dumbledore's lined face, until it faded into sadness and grief. Dumbledore didn't doubt Harry's story, for nothing of the situation made sense, so why should the explanation be any more logical.

Snape looked between the two of them. From under the mop of ebony hair, he could make out an expression of pain and…was that fear…on Harry's face.

Silence reigned until Harry finally had the guts to look up. His young face was tormented.

"Harry…" began Dumbledore, but for once the usually brilliant fool had no words.

"It wasn't your fault sir" whispered the boy, "there was nothing anyone could do."

Oddly, at this something flared up inside Snape. He mistook it for being the spark of hatred that was so familiar with James Potter's son but it wasn't quite that.

"What of the order?" he snarled, "Or is the famous Potter too good to ask for help from lesser mortals?" Sarcasm dripped off every word.

Automatically, Snape expected the boy to flare up in anger but to the potion masters surprise and discomfort, Harry flinched.

"The order was finished by that time sir." he said quietly and evenly.

Snape frowned, while Dumbledore stood up from his seat.

"Harry…I never meant for…well…I'm so sorry my boy…" There was an awkward pause. "…I suppose the best thing to do is learn everything that happened, so it will not come to pass in our time."

A nod followed this, although keen obsidian eyes didn't miss the dull look in the green eyes as Harry agreed.

Although it was the only course of action, Harry's stomach filled with dread at having to recount all that had happened. Would Dumbledore even be able to listen to it? Harry felt some horrors should be buried and never again disturbed.

"When you are feeling more recovered of course" Dumbledore added. "I think in light of the seriousness of the knowledge, caution must be exercised in a re-telling."

Harry readily agreed to this, he couldn't face it all right now. "You may ask some questions professor…I'm sure there's a lot you must want to know."

A grateful half-smile crossed Dumbledore's face as he looked back to Harry. "You know me to well my boy." Harry didn't return the smile, he was only offering answers because it was right.

"I'm afraid I must start with the most obvious and horrific question."

Harry sighed and ran a shaky hand over his face, knowing this was coming.

"How did you die?"

Harry looked up in surprise and albeit concern. That was certainly not the most important of all the questions to be asked.

Snape, meanwhile had sat stiffly in a chair a bit away from Harry's bed, eyes boring at the boy, occasionally flicking to Dumbledore. As much as he would have loved to sweep off to the dungeons, he now needed to hear this too. Especially where the dark Lord was concerned. Yet this bothered him, he turned to the headmaster. "If Mr. Potter had in fact died in his future there is no possible course of action that would allow him to be sent back. You know I am correct headmaster, how co-"

Snape stopped as the old man raised his hand to silence him. It wasn't in a rude manner, but a tired one. The potions master frowned but quit his argument for now.

"There are always things beyond our understanding Severus." he said softly "Continue Harry."

"A blade…" Harry said, almost absentmindedly, rubbing his arm. "I-I'm not sure, it was cursed or poisoned or something."

Dumbledore held back his concern, he knew Harry was uncomfortable talking about this. "Poppy thought your wound was caused by something to that effect." He waited for Harry to continue but he didn't. "Surely that's not it Potter?" interrupted Snape suddenly from his chair, a tiny flare of anger at the Headmasters dismissal of his reasoning.

Harry looked toward him, the mans hair hung around his face like dark curtains, but he had an elegant eyebrow raised in questioning. Didn't Snape care one bit that Harry had died? It was unfamiliar territory speaking with Snape, now that he knew the man's allegiance and past and the boy didn't know where they stood.

Focusing back on the matter at hand Harry didn't know how to answer, so he didn't and just looked to the headmaster. "I'm not really sure-" he started but was interrupted by the scraping of Snape's chair.

"How can you possibly not know the contributing factors to your own supposed death Potter?" Snape sneered.

Perhaps it was the curling of the sneer that twisted on Snape's face or the fact the man seemed unconcerned…well, something at that moment made Harry snap. The boys face contorted into bitterness and anger and before he knew it, his hand had closed around the large potion vial next to his bed and with impossible strength he hurled it at the wall. "Just shut up!" Harry screamed, as the glass shattered on impact, missing Snape by less than a meter, a few shards falling onto the end of his sweeping robes. "You know nothing.." Harry hissed venomously, his green eyes fixed dangerously on the man.

Said potions master for a change was totally taken back. Harry had just flipped and as he dusted off the shards from the bottom of his robes, his eyes never left the boy who was shaking and white, looking quite demented.

"I think that's enough Severus" said Dumbledore quietly. Snape was about to argue that he hadn't done anything wrong and that Potter had simply gone totally mad, when he noticed Harry's body slacken into a rather pathetic pose. His pale limbs shook as his head fell into his hands, not crying, but overwhelmed… with what exactly, they weren't quite sure.

Harry was left to rest after his outburst, the headmaster thinking the questions had been too much. It wasn't the questions that bothered him, more the fact that nobody understood. He had lost everything and being back here, although it seemed like a second chance, didn't erase the pain and trauma of all he had been through. Yet, at the same time Harry didn't want to be understood. He didn't want to let slip the things that had happened. They were too horrible to think about, let alone explain to anyone.

Despite being quite warm, Harry turned over and shivered, pulling the bed covers up over his thin frame.

Xxxxxxxx

Reviews are of course welcomed and just a note to say that not all chapters will be up this fast, I just had this part ready, hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Fury

A/N: No annoying notes about this chapter to give, which I am glad for, the story I hope will tell itself. I was going to wait a few days to post this chapter but then I thought about all those times I'd like an author to update and they don't. I've done it myself too. So as a result, here it is, a little prematurely. Unfortunately this speedy updating will slow down soon as I'm heading back to college, but sure here goes something.

Enjoy…

I own nothing.

Xxxxxxxx

Chapter 3: Fury

A week had passed and Harry's physical state was improving. His daily routine of potions and healing spells had strengthened him and his chest wound no longer bled continuously. The cut down the side of his eye had finally sealed but unfortunately it was clear he would have a nasty mark for a long time, hopefully the scar salve would help reduce it. In fact, Harry's entire body was a collection of scars, some faded quite well, thanks to Madame Pomphrey's healing balm that Harry had been applying every seven hours for the last few days, but most of them remained quite noticeable.

He had not been questioned further since his outburst a few days ago and also questions about his injuries were not voiced either. 'Not yet anyway' thought Harry disdainfully as he slipped into the right sleeve of a deep green long sleeved soft shirt, throwing aside his pyjama top. As his health improved he was allowed walk around the castle a little bit. He also pulled on a pair of black sweatpants. Although he preferred jeans, these were more suited to sitting around the ward and he could roll them up easily to rub the ointment on his bruises and scars, rather than having to take his jeans off-which were too stiff and fitted to roll. Harry sat back on his bed, contemplating going on another short walk this morning. It had become routine for him now.

Dumbledore visited daily, enquiring after his improvement but avoiding all topics related to the future. Snape had retreated to his dungeon, or Harry presumed he had, as he had not seen him since the last day. Harry had ate his meals in the hospital wing, which gave him almost complete solitude, which he was pleased with, but yesterday he had been told he could now eat with the professors in the great hall-well, the small group of professors that were actually in the castle. Harry had no clue exactly who was here. He never saw anyone on his walks, even Hagrid was gone. It was unnerving and yet suited him.

Looking around the ward which was lit with the early morning sun, Harry lost himself in the nothingness that seemed to fill his life here. He didn't allow himself thoughts of anything but what was around him. He couldn't bear to dwell on his past…future? Pity his nightmares wouldn't allow the same mercy. Luckily his wand…or the wand belonging to this time… had also been in the trunk Dumbledore had sent for and each night a quiet whisper of muffliato went around his bed to avoid the waking of the nurse. Harry was thankful his wand was still here in this time, he certainly didn't have it before he returned.

Pulling an odd pair of socks from his trunk under the bed, he placed them on his cold feet. It had been weird seeing his old trunk again, like something from a different life. 'Well' Harry supposed, 'it was a different life really.'

He was slowly getting used to the days here, not quite settling in, but accepting his current position.

He had been happy being left alone this past while, but now the thought of eating breakfast with Dumbledore, Snape and god knows who else made Harry's stomach tighten. He already knew how uncomfortable the meal would be.

Glancing at the old clock upon the wall he saw that it was only seven. Perhaps if he went down to breakfast early he could avoid meeting anyone?

Going with this idea he pulled on some shoes and left the hospital wing.

Entering the great hall, he blinked. It was so empty. The house tables had recently been moved over near the walls and just like Christmas in his third year, one single table had been put sideways across the hall. Almost grinning at the fact there was no one around yet, Harry sat down at a seat just right of the centre. There was already food covering the table and Harry looked at it with slight dismay, reluctantly helping himself to some toast. Madame Pomphrey had almost threatened him the other day when he refused to eat. She said that he needed strength and something to fill his stomach other than potions. But Harry really hadn't been hungry-at all. He ate out of fear of the matron and wanting to recover faster but really he wanted to throw it all up. Pulling another slice of toast onto his plate, he didn't bother buttering it, the thought of the creamy texture made him want to gag. So he ate it dry. His pumpkin juice was honoured with a sip but no more, instead it was replaced with a cup of tea. Harry was always fond of tea, he just forgot to drink it a lot of the time. He had found it soothing, particularly lately. Just as he added two sugars to the mixture he heard the door open behind him. He froze and mentally cursed.

Not turning around to see who it was, Harry just stirred his cup and took a nip out of the corner piece of his breakfast, his shoulders noticeably tense. The food tasted like ash in his mouth but he forced it down his throat.

It was only when a chair scraped the stone floor that the boy glanced over to see who had interrupted his quiet. Harry froze upon seeing his old potions master sitting four seats across and down from him. Not wanting to catch the mans eye, Harry returned to his pitiful breakfast uneasily. Neither said anything. Snape was obviously pretending he wasn't there.

'Just like the old days' Harry thought sarcastically. But something deep down in Harry could never allow him to hate the man…not now.

Harry and his professor sat in silence for under ten minutes, Snape pouring himself coffee more than once in that time. It was in the eighth minute of their company that the doors opened again. Neither of the occupants needed to look up for they both were greeted with a cheerful 'good morning' by the headmaster as he sat down directly one seat across from Harry.

"Ah Harry, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore enquired. The man had gotten the twinkle back in his eye over the past few days as the memory of the night of Harry's return got further away. Truthfully the man was worried beyond worry but he hid this carefully from those around him, glad to see Harry's health progress for the better.

"I'm fine sir." He replied quietly. Harry had been very subdued and quiet around company since the potion vial incident, out of embarrassment and the thought of what was to come. Every time someone spoke to him he thought they were suddenly going to bombard him with awkward and painful questions.

Dumbledore frowned at Harry's continued withdrawal into himself, but nonetheless smiled a second later. "I am glad you are recovering my boy."

Harry took another bite out of the toast, hoping no one noticed his lack of food.

Dumbledore sipped his pumpkin juice looking worriedly at the boy in front of him, who was clearly avoiding his eye. Sighing to himself, he looked down to his right. "How are the potions for Madame Pomphrey's stocks coming along Severus?" he asked conversationally as he poured honey over his rather large dish of porridge. Snape looked up, looking somewhat bored. "They are on schedule headmaster."

"Excellent excellent" the bearded man muttered.

"Oh Harry there's something I wanted to mention to you."

Harry looked up, clearly uninterested but simply being polite. "Sir?"

"Well, I wanted to put the idea to you of perhaps seeing Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger-"

He got no further into the sentence upon seeing Harry's face. The boy had gone deathly pale and his eyes were wide.

"Harry-"he tried again fruitlessly.

"No…no sir, I don't- I'm not…I can't-"

Head filled with images flickering madly, Harry stood up suddenly, jumping as his knocked his chair over, the heavy wood thudding against the floor. His eyes found Dumbledore and just as the man opened his mouth to continue, Harry saw the endless questions and torment pour from it in invisible strands. Shaking his head in both an attempt to get a grip on reality and to excuse himself, Harry fled from the hall, the door closing behind him with a teeth itching creak.

Dumbledore was left with a slight frown on his face until a very serious voice broke his thoughts.

"You have to find out what happened to Potter Headmaster, and soon. The boy is clearly unsteady."

Harry's heart raced as he got as far away from the hall as his legs would allow, finding himself stopping on the first floor main corridor. He leaned against the wall, sweat dripping down his face from the excessive activity on his tired and pain wrecked body. Using his sleeve to wipe his forehead he winced. He had not realised his scar was hurting until he touched it, his senses being otherwise occupied with various body parts. Frowning he felt it twinge uncomfortably.

"I can't do this" he whispered to himself, as he slid down the stone wall onto the floor. With his legs spread out before him, Harry could see the slight difference in their length. His seventeen year old legs were slightly longer. Funnily enough, Harry didn't feel different in this younger body. He suspected it had something to do with whatever spell or…something that sent him here, for he had retained his injuries and memories from his other life in this time., yet was cast into his fifteen year old size and aged body. It was unbearably unclear and confusing as to what exactly had happened.

He sat there for over ten minutes before forcing his protesting limbs to get up. Once steadied he headed down the many corridors, not really noticing the portraits which stared at him curiously, wondering why a student was in the castle during the summer holidays. As he climbed a winding back stair, which he had found behind an unfamiliar door, up to the third floor Harry realised how weak he still was. He was forced to take three breaks to steady his breathing before he made it to the top. Coming out from the stairs which were concealed by a tapestry, followed by a thick oak door, he noticed that he had come across an open terrace-like area, surrounded by a high wall with turrets. The day was windy but not cold, but the boy pulled his sleeves down over his hands, effectively stretching the fabric.

Harry didn't recognise this area. It was obviously very cleverly concealed from a view of the front of the castle by a large tower at the right side of it, hiding most of the grounds from Harry's eyes too. Harry smiled slightly as he thought of the castle's secrets fondly. There was always something new to find.

Glad to have somewhere that felt private, Harry ventured over to the wall. He knew he was high up, but it was probably nothing compared with the view from the astronomy tower. A scowl graced his features as he thought of the crazed professor who lived in one of the top rooms of that tower. It was no secret Harry had always strongly disliked Trelawney. It wasn't a hatred, but it was certainly strong.

Standing up on a large step that ran at the edge of the bottom of the wall, he climbed up and stood upon his tip-toes finally able to see out over. His stomach dropped and his mind froze over as he saw the water beneath him. The lake. Drawing back so fast he fell, Harry smashed onto the hard ground hissing in pain as he grazed his elbow. But nothing could distract him from it. Nothing. He hated how the water was so still and eerie even on a windy day like today, it was too much like…

Instantly Harry vomited violently. His eyes watered as the miniscule breakfast he had consumed was wasted in twenty seconds and soon, retching finally stopping he pulled away and sat shivering on the ground. Shakily pulling his wand out he vanished the now visible contents of his stomach, before placing it back in his pocket. He had forgotten that he was on this side of the castle and was not expecting that view of Hogwarts, the one he feared. No one had noticed, but Harry's walks around the grounds had always been from out of the entrance hall, straight toward Hagrid's hut and the area around the forbidden forest, avoiding the lake and any sight of it, as it resided mainly to the right and behind the castle, like the plague.

Biting his lip, Harry half crawled, half walked back toward the door and only let out a breath when it closed behind him.

Xxxxxxx

An hour later found Harry still wandering the castle, too afraid of going back to the hospital wing in case today would be the day Dumbledore would be waiting for him with his questions. And so it was that Harry poked his head down the third floor corridor. Coming to a sturdy wooden door he suddenly smiled. It was a small smile but there nonetheless. He remembered this door from all those years ago. A group of young screaming faces swam in front of his eyes as clear as day and he almost laughed. The adventures of his first year were certainly memorable, and yet he hardly ever thought about them. Pulling the iron handle he opened the door to the chamber where Fluffy had once resided. No surprise he was gone and Harry was met with an empty space.

His eyes fell on the trap door which remained set firmly into the floor. He snorted as he remembered they were convinced it had been Snape who was up to good. Although the potions master didn't exactly appear innocent.

Although Harry knew all that Snape had gone through and his connection to his mother, whenever Snape looked at him he could still see the hate and it was all too easy to hate him back. Although the hate would never be real again, it was only dislike now. He could never despise the man again-not after he protected him for so long and the fact he was his mothers childhood friend made it even harder.

Sighing he closed the door behind him, leaving the memory behind. Heading toward the staircases, Harry realised how small the castle seemed even though it was immensely vast. It just felt smaller. He almost had a memory for every area in the place-perhaps that's what have it a limited free feeling for him. The space was too packed with thoughts, feelings and happenings which seemed an age ago. Putting a hand over his wound Harry grimaced. 'This wound is painful' thought Harry to himself as he descended the stair, 'but it doesn't hurt as the others do.' With a mixed expression he stepped off the last stair and turned to head toward the hospital wing. Unfortunately straight in his view was Snape.

The two stared at each other for a moment, each stiff. Harry avoided the mans eye and turned to head in a different direction.

"Potter" was the sharp call.

Biting the inside of his lip, Harry turned. "Wha-" But he never got to finish his question. It was at that moment he felt it. Too many turns at failed occlumency left him in no doubt that his mind was being invaded, even if it was more subtle than he was used to. But before Harry could protest he saw the images flashing in front of his eyes and he was horrible aware that Snape was seeing them too.

Snape slipped past the boys defences with ridiculous ease, mentally scoffing at the boy. Although any thought was immediately wiped from his head as he saw the images before him. He was in a dark and grimy room. The smell of damp radiated off the walls and there was a steady dripping coming from more than one corner. There were no windows and sight was barely achievable. Snape notices a thick wooden door, set into the stone wall beside him. It had no handle or lock and looked terribly swollen, as if it hadn't been opened in some time. But it wasn't that which caught the professors interest. Turning, he had to choke back a breath of shock. There was an albeit slightly older Harry Potter. He was hanging from chains connected by iron hooks in the wall above him, resulting in his legs dangling limply like that of a hangman. The boy's skin was encrusted in blood and dirt, his face ripped with scratches and cuts. His green eyes were dully unfocused and his head hung in front of him, hair matted with what looked like more blood.

"What-"

Snape's eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the half-dead figure until the scene changed. Daylight flooded the memory as Snape found himself in a forest in deep winter, judging by the two feet of snow covering everything in a white shroud. A crackling sound caught his ear and he craned his neck around a tree. Sitting there, wrapped in a warm jumper was an unmistakable Hermione Granger. Wand in hand, she had managed to make a half decent fire despite the snow. Book in the other hand, she casually turned the page, every now and then looking up and around her. It was then that Snape caught sight of Potter. He had been a little way off collecting what little branches and sticks that could be found in the current conditions. "Do you think this will last the night?" he asked, coming up toward the girl, an unusually sour expression on the pale face.

"It should do" she said, putting the book down. Snape was surprised to see that the know-it-all was reading a book by Rita Skeeter. Although he hated her holier-than-thou attitude he thought her too clever to be reading that kind of rubbish.

"By the way, it's my turn."

Snape noted that she didn't look pleased saying this and he frowned as Harry put a hand down his jacket and brought out a necklace. The sour face died away as she took it in her gloved hand. "Thanks" he mumbled, just as the scene changed again.

As everything came into focus, the potions master's stomach lurched upon recognising one of the rooms of Malfoy Manor. It was one of the smaller rooms of the huge house.

A fire flared from inside the grate of the large marble fireplace, that and a few torches being the only lights in the room.

If it wasn't for his excellent composure, Snape would have jumped as the figure of the Dark Lord stepped out of the shadows, wearing a long sweeping black robe. His sadistic red eyed were fixed on a chair which Snape was standing behind, so for a fear-filled moment it was as if the monster could see him. Snape swallowed and walked around almost casually, yet afraid of what he would see. He immediately spotted a figure lying in a heap in front of the large armchair- a figure with horribly familiar black hair. The potions master was ill to see that blood splattered the expensive chair in a trail…

"Harry Harry" Voldemort chided softly "How many times must we discuss manners?" There was a soft smirk playing around the snake-like mouth.

There was only gasps of breath from the boy on the ground, his movement limited due to the bonds that held his hands behind his back.

Voldemort smiled.

Quicker than anyone could imagine, a pale, long finger nailed hand shot down and grabbed a fistful of the ebony hair and wrenched the body upwards, throwing Harry unceremoniously onto the chair. The boy didn't scream just cried out in a gasp of sharp pain which set Snape's teeth on edge. Grabbing the boys throat, Voldemort pushed his head back into the soft cushion. It was then that Snape's eyes found the lacerations that ran through the saviour of the wizarding worlds clothing, right through the skin. There were about five of these in various places, each leaking red.

"It is easier to just do as I say when I tell you take a seat…don't you agree Harry?" he asked this in a playful tone, but laced with danger.

The boy couldn't reply as he was obviously being choked by the spider-like hand.

In an instant Voldemort let go, preferring to push the boys head back exposing the pale and bruised neck. "Don't worry, it's not your time to die yet Harry."

Snape's breath caught in his throat as his 'master' unsheathed a knife from his robes. Before Snape could breathe, the silver blade had been dragged across the delicate skin. Wide obsidian eyes watched the scene with horrific fascination. Sick gurgling noises were sounding from Harry while it rained blood from about halfway down his neck. In a smooth fashion, the Dark Lord casually held a goblet to the neck, allowing the blood to drain into it. The flow was horrifically full and fast, but before the green eyed boy's head could roll to the side and be left in peace, Voldemort's wand slashed the air and the cut sealed, immaculately healed. It was like a fast acting counter-curse to Sectumsepra and this was followed by a vial of blood replenisher potion poured down the throat. Obviously the damage under the skin had healed too because at that moment Harry's head fell as he was released, choking on the liquid and his lungs gasping for air they couldn't claim moments ago.

Snape watched as the boy gasped for life, pale and shaking with sweat beginning to form on his forehead around his inflamed scar.

"I see you are getting used to the process now Harry. Excellent." Voldemort was smiling at the figure as he fingered the goblet in his hands.

"It's incredible how similar your blood is to a fine red wine. Both are better served warm…no?"

Swirling the liquid gently, Voldemort peered into it. "To immortality" he toasted, and to Snape's shock and revulsion, the snake lifted the cup to his lips and drained the contents.

Rooted to the spot, Snape watched as the goblet was placed on the mantelpiece and despite Harry's visible shrinking back, his tormentor advanced on him once more…

But just as the monster reached out for the boy, the memories went rushing by and Snape found himself violently thrown out of the head he had been infiltrating. Taking a step back out of surprise, Snape looked up towards Harry. The boy was livid. His eyes flared with green anger and…fear, while

his hands shook uncontrollably.

"How. Dare. You…" he ground out, knuckles white with anger. It didn't take a genius to figure Potter was shaking out of more than just fury.

Snape couldn't help but roll his eyes, despite what he had just seen, it was almost a reflex action at this point. Slipping his mask into place he stared the boy down. Harry's nails dug into his palms as his hands balled into fists, anger beyond anger directed at the uncaring man in front of him. Possessed by hatred-no one should have seen those memories…not until he was ready, but no. Severus Snape doesn't count and just takes what he want. The old temper of Harry Potter flared and before he knew it, words rolled off his tongue, pure venom dripping off each one, the immense pain and anger fuelling his words.

"And you wonder why my mother could never love you."

Severus Snape's blood froze in his veins and his heart skipped several beats. The little colour he usually had drained from his face as he watched the boy fly past him toward the hospital wing. He didn't even think of a reply. He couldn't move. Eyes just stared ahead of him, lost in a numb whirl of thought.

Xxxxxxxx

Feedback would be fantastic.


	4. Guilt and Panic

A/N: I want to thank people immensely for their feedback. I'm glad I'm getting some good responses to this. I should mention that I am still sticking to the idea that in the future Harry came from, it followed the events in the books until just after they break into Gringotts in the last book, but the time he is in now is obviously going to be affected by him. He knows things from the future and this will change his decision making and thought process in terms of the present, aka a new present is being formed due to him wanting to change what will be if he doesn't act.

Time frames get me in a muddle sometimes.

Anyway, enjoy and of course, I don't own anything.

Xxxxxxx

Chapter four: Guilt and Panic

By the time Harry had reached the hospital he had digested what he had said. Anger still reigned within him, but even he knew that he had gone a step too far. He never thought hatred like that could come flying back for the man…but those memories the potions master had invaded… Harry wiped his brow with his sleeve as he sat down on his bed in the white ward. But he shouldn't have said that to Snape. How could he? Harry was well aware that even though his mother did chose James, she had loved Snape in the same way Harry loved Ron and Hermione and worse…Snape had loved her completely.

Something caught in his throat. He didn't think he'd ever be able to make amends. For once, Harry's actions had trumped Snape's in viciousness. Yes he invaded his mind, but Harry had used the one thing he knew Snape cared for more than anything else in the world against the man.

Harry had used his mother's memory against him

And at that moment Harry knew he would have to try.

He lay back on his bed and absent-mindedly slipped an arm under the squishy pillow. That was when it hit him, but he was reluctant… would he cause more harm than good? He didn't know.

'Perhaps I could…' his thought trailed off as he looked up at the ceiling, finally settling on a 'Maybe.'

As the morning faded to afternoon and then to evening Harry just sat in the ward, applying his salve and taking each potion under Madame Pomphrey's scrutiny and amidst her remarks about him being too thin and having to eat more. Harry neglected to tell her about throwing up. It would lead to too many questions.

It had taken him until eight o clock that night to realise he was going to have to apologise to his ex-potions master.

Sighing, anger finally gone, Harry climbed off his bed. He told Madame Pomphrey he was going for a walk.

"Be back here within the hour Potter." she said, not unkindly.

He nodded and left the safety of the room into the torch-lit halls. Hands in pockets he wandered downstairs and shivered as he came to the arch leading down to the dungeons.

It was eerily quiet and chilly down there, especially at night, but Harry stepped down regardless. Coming to his school potions classroom, he wondered where Snape might be.

He felt a little apprehensive his idea, but he could try.

Despite Snape's actions earlier that day, Harry knew the man needed closure-it might even help him. So swallowing his pride, Harry walked through the classroom and knocked on the door of the mans office which was connected to it.

Everything was silent. 'perhaps he's with Dumbledore?' Harry wondered, heart sinking. He didn't think he'd be able to get up the courage to do this again.

Just as he was turning from the door he heard the sharp and commanding "Come in."

Letting out a breath, Harry pushed the door open and was met with the sight of Snape sat at his desk. The fireplace was lit behind him, as well as a few candles. The man was busy scribbling hastily on what looked like essays.

"Sir?"

It was the voice…Harry's voice which caused Snape to finally look up at his guest. His eyes narrowed hatefully as he found the green eyes.

"What do you want Potter?" he spat. Harry knew he was angry and perhaps…if it was possible, a little hurt about earlier.

"I er…wanted to apologise." he said hesitantly as the door shut behind him, effectively closing him in.

Snape smirked. "Do you?" he questioned delicately before in a creepy but calm tone told him to "Get out."

Harry winced at the tone.

"No sir, really…I had no right and what I said wasn't true."

Snape observed the boy closely, before dropping his quill into the ink pot and sitting up straight. "How did you come by such information Potter?" he asked evenly.

"You ah…told me."

Harry almost rolled his eyes at his own answer, as if Snape would swallow that answer, but he wasn't going to tell the man of his own death.

Snape looked at him darkly. "There is no way I would give you that information Potter. I guess you are just as much a sneak in your future as your past."

Harry saw red "You're one to talk sir!" he threw back. But instantly he regretted it. Running a nervous hand through his hair, which only served to test Snape's patience even more, being reminded of the elder Potter instantly.

"Look, I didn't come here to fight. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. And my mother would have hated to hear what I said to you." he added the last bit, defeated.

"You don't know what your mother would have done." said Snape harshly.

Harry looked up angrily, thinking the man was referring to her being dead. But the manner in which Snape was almost slumped in his chair, staring bitterly at the far wall told him otherwise.

He thinks she would have agreed' thought Harry, rather sadly.

"No matter what I say I know you won't believe me-" started Harry.

"What were those memories I saw Potter?" interrupted Snape and completely changing the subject.

"My life" Harry replied cryptically, trying to appear as if he wasn't bothered by the question. Snape considered the boy. The dislike he carried whenever James Potter's son was in his view could be seen in the slightly down-turned left corner of his mouth, yet he didn't glare or scowl and he held back the biting words he usually mustered for the boy, curiosity holding him for a moment.

"You should relay those things to the headmaster Potter" he said evenly.

Harry nodded. "I know."

"Fine" was the stony reply. "Now get out. Leave me in peace."

"But sir there's s-"

"Do not make me repeat myself." The danger was back.

Maybe he had a death wish but Harry continued "No I need to-"

Harry visibly jumped as a sallow-skinned hand slammed down on the desk in front of him. Looking up in shock he noticed the other hand was obviously shaking… with hatred or anger Harry couldn't guess, nor did he have time to.

"I have been patient with you Potter…" began the potions master, his tone rising with each word, staring at the boy in front of him unrelentingly, "…but if you do not get out of my office this second you will be very, very sorry."

The threat was very real, Harry could see it in the dark eyes as they stared at him viciously.

"I-" he should not have hesitated.

Snape stood up so swiftly, yet smoothly Harry barely noticed until the man was on his feet until he was. The potions master inhaled deeply and threateningly before breathing a fury shook "Out. Now".

Harry swallowed, remembering every reason he had always feared the man and he backed out of the room and disappeared through the door rather clumsily, his hands fumbling with the handle, but still quickly.

Snape closed his eyes as the door shut behind the figure and sat back down in his chair. Frustration and anger tormented him, mixed with something he didn't recognise.

Grabbing his quill from the pot he attempted to return to his grading. The nib was only dipped delicately into the ink when something snapped. His usually careful fingers grasped the pot of jet black substance and hurled it at the wall where it smashed, ink splurting everywhere.

Snape eyed the liquid dripping down the stone wall in long strips with distaste. Great, he thought, now he was copying Potter's childish antics of throwing things when something didn't suit him. That reality infused him even more and he abandoned his attempts at grading and strode toward the door. He had only reached for the handle when his fire flared green and the headmaster strode casually out of it's depths.

Snape turned, his eyebrow raised in questioning at the silver haired man, but Dumbledore didn't address the obvious question, his blue eyes found the black substance trickling down the office wall.

"Problem Severus?"

The slight amusement in the headmaster's tone left the potions master glaring at him.

"When is there not" he hissed back, "particularly when your golden boy is floating around."

Dumbledore frowned. "Harry threw-"

"No but that does not alleviate him of being the cause."

The older wizard said nothing, merely walked closer to the mess and examined it.

"You have to speak to the boy Albus." Snape said, in a straight voice. "that you have not already done so is insanity. Despite Potter's 'delicate mind'.." he sneered slightly, pushing away thoughts of what he had seen earlier within that very mind "…he has vital information."

"Yes, yes I know my boy," Dumbledore said sadly "I am just concerned-"

"What you are concerned about drives little backing for your argument headmaster. I have-well that is, I saw-"

Dumbledore turned sharply, sensing the danger in the man's tone and hesitation. Severus Snape was never known to hesitate unless there was something serious behind it.

Snape received his gaze steadily.

"I know what you will say on the matter but information is information and I had to confirm that there was serious and useful knowledge within the boy's mind."

Now Albus Dumbledore would always stand up for the man in front of him, he knew he was to be trusted regardless of what was said about Snape by others…but the tone which greeted the younger man was one he hadn't heard in many years. It was cold and deadly serious.

"You invaded his mind Severus…" It wasn't so much of a question as a statement of realisation.

Snape said nothing.

Dumbledore looked at him, the coldness melting slightly to reveal disappointment.

"I would have thought you more careful on these matters after the events concerning the pensieve earlier this year."

Snape's form stiffened slightly. "That was a different matter completely. I sought evidence of information to aid us in winning this war, in case the boy was either deluded or simply a liar-"

"Despite your grievances towards the boy, you know Harry is neither."

Snape seemed to not hear this but carried on. "All Potter was up to with the pensieve was being nosy." he said defiantly.

"Severus, are you sure this wasn't a form of payback for his intrusion?"

Snape stopped for a moment, before narrowing his eyes "As if I would waste my time on such matters."

Dumbledore sighed, clearly disappointed regardless of the reason.

"Whatever your reasons were for using legilimancy on him, it was still an invasion of his memories, much like he carried out in the pensieve."

Snape looked disgusted with such a similarity pointed out between them, but he wisely said nothing.

Silence fell, Dumbledore leaving his scolding to move on to more serious matters.

"I will allow Harry to tell me everything when he is ready" There was a pause which no doubt suggested Snape should have done the same but said man ignored the hint. "But I have to ask you Severus, how bad?"

Whatever had happened in the last few minutes flew out of Snape's mind and Dumbledore's heart dropped as he saw the pale complexion of the man grow whiter.

"I didn't see much…" he said carefully. "But what I did- bad."

To anyone else who didn't understand the potion masters way of speaking, this would cause alarm but not panic. However Dumbledore knew the other professor's manner and the simple word 'bad' in Severus Snape's vocabulary spoke volumes.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry left the dungeons as quickly as his body allowed. No one wanted to be near an angry Snape. Sighing he realised Snape had a reason to be angry. Despite the forced legilimancy which still angered Harry, he had used the lowest form of attack anyone could for Severus Snape and that bothered him.

As he climbed the stairs a thought suddenly struck him, one from long ago, a different lifetime.

He was in the summer time after his fifth year, his fifth year being the year he had entered the pensieve and consequently Snape's memories.

Stopping on a stair he groaned. How could he have forgotten…well, he had good reason for forgetfulness, but this still seemed a remarkable stupidity. Was Snape's attack a form of retribution as well as a search for answers?

Harry knew if it was, he finally knew how Snape felt at that time. To have your most personal experiences viewed and your privacy invaded was a sickening and infuriating thing to go through. Despite his earlier anger, Harry's guilt now only grew.

Yes Snape had been horrible to do such a thing, but was it a consequence Harry's previous actions? And Harry knew how irritating it was to have information kept from you, having suffered through this for most of his life.

"Argh!" he growled, startling a nearby portrait, the figures jumping out of their chairs and effectively knocking over the table they were sitting at.

Harry continued up the stairs, his anger at Snape slowly decreasing and his guilt unfortunately increasing. Knowing Snape's history and future didn't help in this. The man had spent his life protecting Harry-treating him like dirt yes, but still doing what he had to…until he met his end.

Harry knew what he had to do, but he had to make Snape listen to him first… and after tonight he realised that might not be as easy as he pretended. His attempted apology instead of getting straight to it had in fact made matters more difficult, but he would try again.

While pondering Snape's actions Harry headed back to the hospital wing to take a pain reliever potion. His chest was beginning to ache, as he hadn't taken anything in a while. Madame Pomphrey was very strict on this and had warned him that if she found out he had been neglecting to look after himself she would put a permanent sticking charm in him and attach him to his bed.

But before he could reach his destination, a flash of searing pain sliced through his scar. Slamming a hand to it, he fell against the wall.

Laughing filled his head, a cold cruel laugh that didn't belong to him nor anyone else who wandered Hogwarts, yet it was all too familiar.

It stopped as abruptly as it came and as he steadied himself, trying to kill the shaking, a thought formed in Harry's mind- one which shoved any thought to do with Snape far from him.

It was a thought that made his blood run cold and his stomach clench painfully. Horrified, he slid down the wall and unconsciously placed a hand over his chest wound. It wasn't possible true he told himself.

'Ah' said a nasty little voice in his head 'But how do you know? No one can explain what happened…so why is that not also possible?'

Harry shook now with fear and panic, not pain. He would have no chance if what he feared was reality. Everything would just go to hell as it did before…everything and everyone.

Summoning the determination that Voldemort had never completely beaten out of him, Harry got up and as best he could, fled to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

Harry skidded to a halt as he reached the office. Looking at the stone statue, which stood perfectly still, his mind raced to come up with possible passwords.

"Acid pop?" he said hopefully, but nothing happened.

Harry grimaced. It had technically been years since he had eaten sweets…it was hard to remember them.

"Sherbet lemon?"

His panic grew "Ah… fizzing whizbees? Blood pops? Chocolate frogs? Liquorice wands? Pumpkin pastie-oh just move aside!" Harry half shouted, half pleaded. Taking out his wand he pointed it at the stone figure. "Alohamora" he said, knowing full well this would not have any affect, as if Dumbledore's office would be that unguarded.

Sighing in frustration he started to think perhaps the headmaster wasn't even in there. He probably knew if someone was outside waiting.

Looking from left to right, Harry considered his options. How was he going to find the headmaster- the castle was huge and he could be anywhere. There wasn't anyone even around to ask.

That's when it dawned on him.

"The marauders map…" he breathed. It must be in his trunk.

Groaning at how long this was taking he hurried back towards the hospital wing.

Peering in through the doors he saw light coming from the matrons office. Good, she had told him to be back within the hour and it was nearing a quarter to nine. He didn't want to go into detail with her, it was best not to give her another reason to panic if he was wrong. Harry knew she had been through enough worry and he had unknowingly grown very fond of her, even if she did nag.

He noted the time and though it was close to her curfew, he still had a few minutes. Pulling his heavy trunk from under the bed with difficulty, due to his injury, Harry pushed open the lid. He immediately frowned at the mess that greeted him. Throwing a hand in he felt around for the thick parchment.

Two seconds later he felt rather stupid. He had a wand… and he was searching manually. Almost saddened that he had forgotten the feel of a natural instinct to use magic, Harry shook this off and performed 'accio'. He was rewarded with the map in his hands.

Spreading it out he whispered fondly "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" and watched with nostalgic fascination as the map came to life.

Franticly searching for the dot labelled 'Albus Dumbledore' Harry immediately noted he was not in his office. Glancing over the main hall, towers and the immediate grounds he found nothing. It wasn't until he looked further that he saw the dot he was searching for. The panic leapt in him as he found him and it twisted painfully when he saw the room the headmaster was in. Snape's office.

Cursing his luck, Harry glanced at the matrons office once more. She hadn't budged. Stuffing the map into his pockets he left the hospital wing and made his way to the dreaded descent into the dungeons once more and sooner than he expected found himself facing Snape's door for the second time that night.

Dread filled him but he ignored it and knocked loudly.

"Come in."

Harry's stomach unclenched. That was Dumbledore's voice.

Pushing open the door, Harry winced as his green orbs instantly met the cold black ones he had faced earlier. But he ignored this and turned to the headmaster.

"Sir- there's something I- well you see my scar, it hurt and I think- I may be wrong but-"

Dumbledore held up a hand in silence and guided Harry to a chair "Calm down my boy."

But Harry didn't sit. The panic burst out of him again.

"Sir you don't understand. My scar, it hurt badly just over fifteen minutes ago- he was laughing…and happily. It led me to think, do you think he could have travelled back from the future too and now knows all that is to come as well as I do? I mean we are connected right? So what's to say we both weren't sent back to this time, it's possible isn't it?"

Silence enveloped the occupants of the dimply lit office.

Snape's eyes travelled to Dumbledore's blue and the headmaster knew what the man was asking. Was it possible?

Dumbledore placed his hands behind his back, glazing over the worry that filled his mind.

"We hadn't considered the possibility…and taking into account we don't know how the entire thing was achieved, it is possible."

Harry's breath hitched up at this and Snap's hands gripped the chair in front of him hard.

"However-" Harry held his breath.

"-I think it is unlikely." finished Dumbledore thoughtfully, peering at the ceiling.

"Voldemort," Harry visibly flinched, but Dumbledore didn't notice as he pondered "would have no desire to travel back to this time if his plans had gone successfully in his own time. He would be too afraid of change. And anyone on our side wouldn't want to send him back for the very reason that he knows the outcome and could thwart any attempts at creating a favourable future for the light side."

"Unless he didn't mean to do it!" added Harry, determined to get a definite answer on the subject.

"I doubt anyone could accidentally send a person back. The feat would take great magic, skill and time."

"But he was so horrifically happy…" Harry breathed "…he hasn't been like that since-"

He cut off, aware of what he had said. Behind him Snape's eyes narrowed.

"It just seemed as if he knew." Harry couldn't explain it.

"Harry…" began Dumbledore softly "…perhaps at feeling the delight, you immediately jumped to the worst scenario possible, one of your deepest fears, that he also knew everything."

The boy in question said nothing, feeling rather foolish for his panic.

"What if he learnt information through me?"

Remarkably, Dumbledore smiled slightly, though it was tainted with sadness.

"I think Tom learned his lesson at the ministry of magic. His mind and yours mixing is a dangerous experience, as he knows. The pain he felt that night was new to him I'm sure. No Harry, I highly doubt you have to worry about that for the moment."

Harry didn't question the 'for the moment' part of that sentence. He felt exhausted and not to mention foolish. Running about the castle in a hype over nothing.

"But wait, sir, if he wasn't happy about that, then what?"

At this Dumbledore turned grave. "I'm afraid that he has a very many reasons to be pleased at this time, much to the expense of our efforts."

Harry racked his brains, attempting to recall what had happened around this time. But if it was summer he would have been at Privet Drive…

Too tired to contemplate the topics of the summer before his sixth year, Harry edged toward the door. The ache in his chest was growing worse and he had probably missed curfew.

Dumbledore noticed his direction. "Harry there's no need to walk that way, you look dead on your feet, I'm sure Severus wouldn't begrudge you using his fireplace to get to the hospital wing.

Snape shot the man a look which very clearly said he did in fact mind.

Harry hesitated, but Dumbledore had already sprinkled a little powder and the fire flared green.

"Thanks sir." Harry mumbled, avoiding Snape's intense scowl as he walked past then and toward the flame.

"Ah before you go Harry, if you wouldn't mind, tomorrow I would like to re-start the discussion we previously dropped.

Harry sighed deeply but nodded and with a tired 'Goodnight' he walked straight into the flame, almost wishing it would take him far away from dealing with all this.

"Hospital wing" he muttered.

As Harry fell into the white bed, after receiving a light scolding from the matron of his tardiness and taking his potions and having his bandage changed, his mind fluttered with anxiety over the day to follow and what had passed today. He considered his plan to appease Snape first and decided to go ahead with it as soon as opportunity came. Harry couldn't afford to have the man oppose him, not now. It seemed a reasonable peace offering and Harry had all the tools necessary to do it, he just needed Snape to listen to him first…

Preferring not to dwell on the impossibility of that situation after what had transpired between them today, his mind turned to Dumbledore.

Harry knew the man would be crushed when he found out all that had happened. He wondered would the headmaster tell the order… he would probably think it wise considering they could implement change, but Harry wasn't so sure. He had a feeling that some of the members would be hindered by the horrors of what had transpired. Could they stand to know they had lost friends, family, loved ones…and themselves? Harry didn't think so. Though he had fought as much as possible in the clutches of Voldemort, he had really lost the will to carry on after the two deaths that nearly killed him.

Lying there, face up in the bed, lights now dimmed to almost black, Harry's facial expression remained unchanged and neutral. He didn't break or sob, focusing on it would torment him.

Yet without his permission, two single tears rolled down his right cheek in succession, before melding together and falling upon the pillow.

One for Ron and one for Hermione.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Reviews are welcome of course.


	5. Porridge and Madness

A/N: Apologies for the ridiculous gap between updates, but typing is rather difficult when your keyboard doesn't work. Anywho, I need to inform people that this will not be slash. Also, I know that the plot is slow to move, but I like to ponder feelings and such. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 5: Porridge and Madness

Harry awoke with the feeling of dread in his stomach. Sitting up in bed, he took his glasses and carefully placed them on just in time to see Madame Pomphrey bustling over.

"Morning Potter" she said kindly.

"Morning" he mumbled back, still groggy.

"I just received a message from the headmaster. He says he has urgent and unexpected business to attend to today so he won't be able to qu- come and see you until this evening."

Harry couldn't help but notice the knot inside him loosen. He had another few hours. He nodded to the matron before taking the purple potion vial from her and swallowing it. He immediately felt the aches within him lessen and he sighed, a little more relaxed.

"Now I want you to eat a good breakfast today Mr. Potter" Pomphrey stated, as she took away the empty vial. "Potions are fine, but you need to build your strength… and it wouldn't hurt to gain a few pounds" she added, looking at his skinny frame.

Harry didn't blush, but he did feel rather awkward as she scrutinized his bony body.

"Yes Ma'am." he said as she bustled away leaving him to get dressed in privacy before heading down to breakfast.

Harry had been eating better lately, slowly but surely he could eat a little more each day, even if it was only an extra piece of toast it was still improvement. However as he sat alone in the hall in front of the spread along the table he didn't immediately grab anything. He had felt fine upon waking up, a bit achy but that was to be expected. Playing it safe he chose a bowl of porridge without sugar and dipped his spoon into it. The mixture had only got past his lips when he dropped the spoon. The creamy substance splattered onto the floor as he looked at his hand in shock. Flexing his fingers he frowned and bent down slowly to pick up the spoon. Placing it to the side he took up the spoon at the setting next to him- there was only ever himself, Snape and Dumbledore that ate at the breakfast table yet it was always set for about twelve.

Shaking off the weirdness that had possessed him he spooned a mouthful of the porridge into him, but on the next dip into the bowl several very weird things happened at once. A slash of pain ran down his face and through his chest. Biting back a cry of pain, Harry's hand smacked to his face at the pain knocking his porridge to the floor. But it didn't stop, it happened again but this time it was more sharp. Harry gasped as his arm flared up as if it was in flames and in his hurry to stop the feeling he tumbled sideways as his chair went with him and landed with a loud crunch on the floor shaking. His limbs trembled as he slowly rolled onto his stomach and attempted to pull himself up, his hands clawing the floor and the sticky substance that had been his breakfast.

Panting heavily his body jerked as an intense fire seared through his heart. The pain was so intense he couldn't claim air, let alone scream. It gripped his very insides and burnt him from the inside out. Then his left cheek flared up in the same fashion, though not quite as intense. It was all consuming. His body wasn't even moving and his limbs seized. Harry dragged his hands to his chest and tore at his clothes. His fingers were stiff so his nails did the work, clawing through the materiel and bandages until the met flesh. Harry couldn't see it but the flesh he was clawing at had become a sickening greyish- black colour, as his nails met it the tears bled.

Not even knowing why he was doing it, Harry raised his hands to his eyes and the green orbs stared, terrified at the shiny black substance that dripped down them.

Horrified at what he had done, Harry's stomach lurched until something within him exploded and a violent ringing entered his head. He didn't know who he was, where he was, he was consumed by the fire and the ringing. It wasn't long before the sound identified itself as laughter. Was he laughing? What was so funny? Had Dudley sat on his cactus again? No that wasn't it, Dudley was long dead after all…then why was he laughing?

He felt safe now, assured. Everything was the way it should be- he would cower at his feet and die, just like anyone who had ever attempted to protect him. He knew…he knew now that there was nothing to be feared from the boy-who-lived. He would be the boy-who bleeds, soon now, oh so very soon…

As the world and pain faded from Harry's thought and he fell away, he didn't hear the shout echo throughout the hall. He didn't know at that moment that he looked quite dead. When one's skin is white and icy and your eyes dull and open, looking up toward the sky covered ceiling, dead is a fairly obvious conclusion, but when coupled with the pulsating black wound and skin stretched out across a bear chest, ripped clothing surrounding it, dead is a highly probable scenario. And it was like this, spread out on the cold floor, chest and hands coated in black blood, lips purple, looking as if a wild beast had ravaged his chest, that the potions master found the young boy he hated so.

Harry cracked his eyes open to see sky above him. Squinting, he blinked a few times, trying to decide where he was. His head hurt and he felt dizzy. Rolling his head to the side he smelt the grass he was lying upon. Very confused now he pushed himself up only to let out a ear-piercing scream as pain exploded within him. Gasping, his eyes full of tears from the sheer harshness he fell back against the ground. Calming himself, he tried to stay still to avoid another spell like that. Turning his head, he saw his surroundings swim into focus…weird, he couldn't feel his glasses on his face. Groaning he turned his head to the right. That was when he beheld something very odd. It was a large rock jutting out of the ground. Looking again, Harry realised it was a tombstone. Frowning he knew it looked familiar, but he couldn't place it.

His attention was drawn away from this pondering when he heard a soft rustle, somewhere behind him. Tensing he rolled his eyes back, attempting to see into the dark.

Maybe it was the wind? But then Harry noticed there was no wind, or even air. Nothing moved, except that rustle. His focus was all over the place, he couldn't concentrate on any one thing.

The rustle started again, this time more noticeable. Craning his neck, Harry desperately tried to see, without moving too much but no luck. It was too dark. Sighing he pulled his head back from the awkward position and looked up the sky once more. But something was blocking his view, something large and dark. Looking delirious, Harry cocked his head. But the large something moved and Harry's lips opened into a silent scream that would never leave his lips as he recognised what the shape was. His fears were confirmed as the black hood fell back softly, revealing eerily white skin, a thin, stretched nose and scarlet eyes, staring amused, down at the boy beneath him.

"B-but I…?" Harry stuttered as the thin mouth curved into a smirk.

"Problem Harry?" was the casual question that followed the pure terror etched into Harry's young face.

Harry was frozen where he lay, his heart pounded painfully as a pale hand descended from under a dark sleeve and came toward him.

Closing his eyes tight, waiting for the cold touch, the scene dissolved around him into white.

The white was very bright, he could feel it through his clenched eye-lids but he didn't dare look. His nightmares were coming to life.

Dreadful cold overtook his skin very suddenly, as of plunged into ice water.

He listened fearfully, but heard nothing.

Daring to crack an eye open ever so slightly, the brightness faded and there was silence. He was looking up towards a very plain ceiling. He didn't move an inch as he just stared, eyes glossy. He could feel he was cold but he didn't shiver, just lay there.

Something was itching…or was it aching? He couldn't tell, everything felt disconnected. His limbs were foreign- perhaps too heavy to lift.

A shadow passed by his view and he jerked violently, seeing the dark shape. Was it Voldemort again? Unable to move, he saw curtains of dark hair and a faded face appear. Hair…the Dark Lord didn't have hair. This thought, though crazed, settled Harry as he lay there. Comforted for a moment by this epiphany of sorts, he lay more contently, eyes unblinking.

But the longer he lay there, the comfort dissolved more and more into uncertainty.

He wished Ron and Hermione were with him.

But they were never with him anymore.

Memories filled Harry's mind with painful emotions digging into his being.

Things he hadn't ever revisited since their actual happening invaded his heart. He remembered watching helplessly, held fast by his captors despite his furious and terrified struggle…watching as Ron's determined yet scared eyes had faded into an unseeing stare.

That had been when something had truly broken inside Harry and the snapping continued as Hermione's screams filled his head.

Xxxxxxx

"My god Severus…" the Matron whispered as she stood back, looking at her patient, now that he was settled she could do no more. She had been standing fretfully and watching him for hours on end, but he just lay there and didn't respond to any treatment, only moving once when his body jumped.

Snape remained silent, but pale.

"What could possible cause this?" she continued, oblivious to his preference to silence.

"We underestimated the severity of the possibilities. Whether this is a poison or a curse, we can't be sure yet, but it lay dormant in Potter until now. It's obvious the boy has gone into shock also" the potions master paused as if pondering something. "Anything that can remain relatively undetected for this long is not a common piece of magic."

The nurse nodded slowly, looking in pain at the fact she could not help the boy that lay before her…and guilt consumed her that she had not done more, even though there had been no signs except of improvement in recent times, slow but still progressive improvement.

"Albus is returning shortly?" she asked quietly, straying from her thoughts.

The dark haired man nodded "In a matter of hours."

"Good" she said decidedly. "Severus…"

Madame Pomphrey didn't need to elaborate, for Snape nodded curtly "I have taken a sample, I will attempt to determine the cause of Potter's condition. Though Potter will be incredibly weakened by the fit, he is not in immediate danger of death, we are dealing with a slow acting formula or curse, we have time."

This information let relief flow across Pomphrey's face and she sent him a small smile. "Thank you Severus."

She got no reply as he swept from the room.

Xxxxxx

Snape hadn't even the time to fully study Potters blood sample before he felt the familiar yet disgusting pain sear along his arm. Gritting his teeth at the inconvenience of the Dark Lord's timing, Snape locked away the sample in his private stores before sweeping to his chambers for his cloak and mask.

Once acquired, quiet as a fox he slipped out of the castle and the grounds until at an apparation point.

With a glance back toward the castle, he left his thoughts of Potter and all that had transpired recently behind and disappeared with a crack.

Mere seconds later the Malfoy Manor came into view from behind its large gates. Whipping his wand through the air, the gates parted and he entered. Though forever on edge, in the position of a spy, Snape's face betrayed nothing except indifference with a pinch of arrogance.

Joining the group of death eaters was usually an easy task, considering identities remained hidden to most, except of course Voldemort himself. But entering the library, Snape instantly noticed that it was a rather select group… if you could call four a group, this evening. This did nothing to appease his worry, but he stayed as in character as always as he passed Bellatrix Lestrange, who after the ministry fiasco was looking slightly more subdued than usual.. Wormtail stood in a corner, head down in an almost constant bow towards the chair that held his master. Judging by the hissing in the dark, Snape asserted that Nagini was around. Seeing no need for coverage, Snape pulled off his mask and approached his 'master', bowing to him obediently.

"Severus…" was the slimy greeting.

"My Lord" he said clearly, before standing up.

There was silence for a moment as Voldemort seemed to consider him, before turning his attention to the roaring fire he was seated near.

"I have a question to ask you my spy"

A flicker of panic passed through Snape, but his occlumency held true, as he twisted his expression into one of confusion.

"My Lord?"

"I have learned that the wards around Harry Potter's house dropped sometime last week, the boy is obviously no longer there."

He left the sentence to sink in before continuing "And I was wondering, dear Severus, why you didn't inform me of this?"

Scarlet eyes turned on him dauntingly, hungrily searching his eyes for any slip up.

"The reason I didn't report on this My Lord, is that I knew nothing of it." His lie was flawless and the simplicity of the answer was much more convincing than an overload of information.

"You are expected to know of these matters Severus" snapped Voldemort as he rose from his chair "Why do you think I placed you under the eye of that fool?"

It was a rhetorical question and Snape simply bowed apologetically.

"However, as it is… it is now no matter."

Snape's cool expression almost dropped in shock at this. He had been expecting torture for his failure and instead he could now see the smile carved upon the snake-like features.

"You are merciful My Lord."

This made Voldemort smile wider.

"I have come to some very interesting information that nullifies your failure, very interesting information."

Snape inwardly paled but he didn't panic, it could mean anything.

Looking around, Voldemort seemed to have realised they were there suddenly, as if he had been talking more to himself.

"Lets just say that the prophecy lost to me…" his eyes flashed dangerously to Bellatrix who bowed her head quickly muttering something "…has been replaced with a new promise. A much more gratifying one."

The first thought that came to Snape was 'He knows'. But how could he? There was no indication other than that sentence but was that enough?

"I can sense the boy".

This sentence caught Snape off guard. Dumbledore had told him of the possession at the ministry, but they had both concluded that Voldemort would try to avoid the link after the pain he suffered.

"He is… delicate at the moment… I know it. Dumbledore's plans are crumbling."

The Dark Lord had never mentioned his connection to Harry before, but his current happiness seemed to have unlocked some rather cheerful thoughts.

"You must be ready Severus"

Snape looked up steadily.

"Things have changed. You must be ready, soon everything will change."

Snape nodded.

Xxxxxx

Two hours later, Severus Snape was busy, poured over a cauldron with multiple books and sheets of parchment piled up on the nearby desk. Uncorking Harry's blood sample he poured a tiny drop into the green smoking cauldron and watched as the liquid shifted and hissed, instantly turning a vivid violet.

This was the ninth brew he had made in his search for the use of poisons but they all came up negative. The addition of blood would have triggered a black solution, indicating poison in the boy's blood, but the tests the potions master had completed hadn't shown results…but that didn't mean this wasn't a poison, it just simply wasn't one of the common ones the Dark Lord usually had in his services.

Snape had yet to monitor Harry's body for the remnants of a curse, but he felt sure that he was dealing with poison. 'The skin on Potters chest was turning black…' Snape repeated to himself '…but what would physically change skin colour?' He glared at the offending cauldron, once more producing ineffective results. Marching over to a second potion he had stewing, which was a pale yellow colour he drew himself up to full height and peered into the sample of blood- it's contents getting noticeably smaller. Sighing he tipped another droplet into this potion and waited.

Expecting either an unchanged effect or a brown to enter the cauldron, Snape frowned as the contents began to bubble. Lowering the temperature, the professor was wary. He knew he had brewed it correctly and at the exact temperature required… His amazement continued as a violent red began to emerge from the bubbles and seeped through the creamy yellow until the entire thing settled into a blood-like state.

Swiftly grabbing a ladle and vial, Snape poured a sample of the mixture into the glass tube and held it up, shaking it slightly but the colour didn't change.

"Impossible…" he muttered.

Nothing ever unsettled or confused the meticulous potions master and this result both worried and fascinated him. Glancing at his pile of books he couldn't believe he'd actually have to do manual research, but he couldn't explain why the result was red. It made no sense, chemically or magically. After a glance through his old notes and books, the man snarled and threw the material down. 'I must have made a mistake…' he told himself, eye twitching in annoyance. The confusion had momentarily suspended any thoughts about the boy he was researching for and it was only when Snape realised he needed more blood were his thoughts dragged back to the total seriousness of what was going on.

Re-doing the same potion in order to see if he would get a different result, Snape set it above a fire and flew out of the room in search of blood.

It was dark in the castle, as not all of the brackets were lit, however this didn't bother the dark haired man one bit as he came upon the hospital wing doors.

Pushing them open he happened upon its matron. Pomphrey was standing, arms folded, looking dreadfully pale and worried as she stared at her patient.

The boy hadn't moved since his departure, Snape instantly noted as he made his way towards the bed, clearing his throat to announce his presence to the woman. She jumped slightly and turned to face him. "Oh Severus, it's you. I thought it might be Albus…".

The headmaster was unusually late.

"I need to take another few samples of Potter's blood" he said indifferently. She nodded and moved forward.

" No need Poppy, I shall do it."

Snape walked up to the bed. His eyes found the glossy green ones which stared eerily at the ceiling, not blinking or moving an inch. He looked so dead.

Something turned in Snape's stomach but he ignored it and summoned a bottle of antiseptic and a cloth to him, dabbing a little at the crook of Harry's limp arm.

As a tiny incision was made in order to draw the blood, Snape noted with relief that the blood was red. He had been concerned that the blackening might have spread, but it hadn't. But before even two drops could be collected, something happened that neither he nor Madame Pomphrey were prepared for.

The previously glossy green eyes snapped to the potions master who froze, thinking the boy had finally awoke from whatever state had gripped him. How wrong he was. Harry had woken, but the ghostly stupor still possessed him and as soon as he saw the blood being drawn from his arm, something rang out in his head.

"No!" he screamed madly, before pulling his arm back from the man just as Snape was blasted off his feet and sent straight into the double doors that blocked the wing off from the castle. As his back collided with them, they flew open and he landed with a sickening crack on the stone floor, while Madame Pomphrey let out a cry of 'Severus!'.

Shock paralysed the man as he struggled to sit up. Dark eyes looked into the room to see the pale boy staring at him with fear.

Snape had always instilled fear into students, it was his specialty. He had always wished he could intimidate Harry Potter more…but at that very moment, staring into those pale green eyes which were so familiar, Snape realised that he never wanted any child to look at him that way, to be so afraid and aware at how much damage could befall them…

Snape winced as he pulled himself up, pushing Poppy's helping hand aside even as his shoulder searing with pain.

The two staff members stared at the boy, one confused, the other disbelieving.

"Harry" said the Matron gently, as she approached him "Harry it's alright."

"Liar!" the raven haired boy shouted back, actually managing to scramble back up against the headboard, fear vanishing, anger pumping. "I won't let you take my blood… it's my blood and I'll be damned if I let you drink it you sick bastard."

It then occurred to Snape that the boy hadn't attacked him, the boy didn't even know who he was speaking to.

"Potter…" Snape began, attempting to forget that the boy had just blasted him off his feet (without the use of a wand) "…you are speaking to Professor Snape and Madame Pomphrey, not the Dark Lord."

He sensed Poppy looking at him in shock, but he stared unrelentingly at the boy before him.

Something stirred in the green depths for a moment as Harry peered at him.

The man nodded, thinking it wise not to approach the teenager yet.

It was then that he saw Harry glance down at the few dribbles of blood that left his arm where the tiny incision had been and then at the coverings which had once more been placed over his chest.

Hoping the boy's brain was putting two and two together, Snape waited, rather patiently considering his usual limitation in that area.

However, instead of realisation, suspicion formed in the pale face as he noted his injuries and the flask on the floor, which had rolled under the next bed, just barely visible.

As the young boy's face came back to Snape's own, he knew the boy still didn't recognise or trust him.

"You may not be Him…" Harry said coldly "…but you have His mark."

Snape's eyes widened as he noted the green orbs were in fact staring at the sleeve of his robe where the Dark mark was in fact concealed beneath it.

"I can sense it there, moving on the skin" Harry's head was cocked to the side weirdly as he stared "He's close by…although I suppose he does like it warm doesn't he."

Having no idea what the boy was on about, Snape studied him, wondering how, if Harry didn't recognise him, how he knew the dark mark was branded into his skin.

"I have the same" Harry continued quietly.

Snape frowned in confusion and albeit…fear, as Harry sank down into the pillow muttering quickly to himself.

Glancing at Madame Pomphrey, who looked terrified, Snape dared to approach the bed.

"Potter?"

He was not prepared for the eyes to look up and suddenly be so…innocent.

"Potter?"

As if nothing strange had happened, the fifteen year old nodded. "I know sir, our new celebrity, fame isn't everything, powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, stomach of a goat, one point for cheek?"

First assuming this to be nonsensical babble, Snape's dark eyes widened considerably as he recalled where these snippets of speech were from…they were from him, five years ago.

"W-what?" he asked, taken aback. What was the boy going on about? It was clear that something was affecting his mental state…

"Are you Lonely sir?" Harry asked, looking into the sallow skinned man's face with curiosity before his eyes turned sad "'Cause I am. But you see, it doesn't matter, I forget what it's like to not be."

Snape stared.

What on earth was happening to the boy? He had been recovering as planned yesterday but today…

He and Madame Pomphrey were both interrupted in their confusion at the sound of footsteps. Turning they saw the headmaster sweep into the ward, a pained look on his face as he saw the boy before him on the bed.

"Harry" he said softly.

Dumbledore's blue eyes held no light, they were filled with sadness and regret. He had not taken care of his charge properly, not now or in the future.

Harry looked up as he heard the man enter the room and his eyes grew wider if that was even possible.

Seeing some sort of recognition in Harry's face, the headmaster dared to hope. But he started as the boy began to shake his head like mad.

"Don't drink the potion, don't drink it, don't drink it-" The words continued in a mad frenzy and Harry began to shake.

Dumbledore reached out his hand to steady the green-eyed boy, but he was not prepared for the terrified face to turn on him and stutter out "Don't drink from the lake!" Harry cried.

Despite his shock, Dumbledore pulled out his wand and waved it softly through the air and instantly, Harry's face relaxed and he fell asleep against his pillows.

There was silence.

"I'm sorry for my tardiness…" Dumbledore began quietly "Fawkes burst into flame yesterday evening and therefore is now too young to provide us with tears and Madame Pomphrey and I had decided two days ago, that although they hadn't fully cleared up the wound, they were the best and safest course of action until we know exactly what is going on. So I was visiting apothecaries and a few old acquaintances and managed to acquire some. That was why I was so late."

Snape nodded at Dumbledore's excuse, tearing his face away from the now sleeping boy.

"He hasn't been in his right mind since he woke Albus" the potions master said.

A nod followed this, Dumbledore himself having caught a glimpse of it.

"I think he Dark Lord may be accelerating Potters condition."

The abrupt announcement was met with a very serious look from the headmaster.

"I was summoned earlier-" Snape explained "-I can't be sure how much he knows or what he knows, but the Dark Lord is aware of Potters weakened state and I feel he may be enhancing the deterioration and pain."

Pomphrey was silent, looking between the headmaster and the potions master.

Dumbledore sighed, his old face tired and worried "Tell me everything Severus".

xxxxxx

Reviews welcome. I feel Ron and Hermione should make an appearance soon.


	6. In my Head

A/N: I'm not going to bore you with a lengthy author's note today.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Enjoy

Xxxxxx

Chapter 6: In my Head

It was at the exact time that Harry had fallen asleep in his bed, shedding tears for his friends and the night before his lapse into madness, that the reasons contributing to this pain were beginning to form.

Lord Voldemort was anything but a fool. Despite being seeped in the Dark arts, none from either side of the war could deny the fact he was a great wizard, his knowledge and ability surpassing any of his contemporaries. Some argue that Albus Dumbledore was a more powerful wizard; however it was undeniable that the Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate to use all of his knowledge, whereas Dumbledore would. So did this moral quality and perhaps fear in Dumbledore ironically give Voldemort the edge over him? This was yet to be decided, but Voldemort himself was sure of his superiority and the Hogwarts headmaster was unsure of his. This was rather a dangerous situation for the light's side.

But despite Voldemort's assurance in his own abilities, he was careful. Though he constantly referred to the man as a fool, he knew Dumbledore was a skilled fool. He hid behind the figure of a kindly old man and while his emotions did weaken him, the ancient wizard was not an opponent to be underestimated. Voldemort had always approached circumstances concerning Dumbledore with caution. Since he had been Tom Riddle at school and even before then when the professor had come to visit him at the orphanage, he had kept a very careful eye on the boy.

Even all those years ago, Voldemort had known Dumbledore didn't trust him. Tom Riddle had always been able to charm those whom he wished, but despite his preaching's about love and forgiveness, the transfiguration teacher as he was then and now headmaster had never taken to the boy he collected from the orphanage, he was always wary of him.

It was along these lines that the very Dark Lord, whom had once been that small clever little boy, now was thinking. Dumbledore was a problem, no doubt about that.

As the darkness shrouded the manor he now inhabited, Lord Voldemort's pale face stared hard out of a pristine window on the upper floors. As he peered over the dark grounds a small smirk crawled onto the snake-like face and red eyes gleamed brighter out into the night. Perhaps it was a result of the good mood that had possessed him since his… informant had turned up.

Though he had hardly believed what he was first told, with some methods of extraction and trials of truth, the information relayed to him had been ecstatically pleasing and yet- the smirk faltered slightly – the knowledge did raise some concern.

He had not fully informed anyone of his findings, he never did trust his followers with vital information. As the monster turned, his black cloak trailing the luxurious carpet as he walked, he cast a dangerous eye to his surroundings. Lucius had proved to him what fools he had following him. It had been rather disappointing to find his fully trained death eaters couldn't handle a group of underage wizards and Potter. The fury he had unleashed after those events had been extreme, even for him. Even now the thought of being thwarted once more made his long pale fingers roll inward and clench painfully… but no longer.

Undisturbed in his walk, he entered his private rooms within the manor. Though he enjoyed displaying his power to the awe of his followers, the Dark Lord was extremely private and none dared step within forty metres of their Lord's rooms, preferring to reside in the east wing of the house.

The deep emerald curtains within had been drawn and there was a fire in the grate at the left side of the room. Ignoring his surroundings, he swept over to the handsome mahogany desk. As silently as imaginable, the spidery hand slithered down to a drawer and delicately pulled it open.

The contents were not visible inside, as the light of the candles and fire within the room was not very illuminating, however the Dark Lord knew exactly what the drawer contained, having admired it many times in the last few days. Reaching his hand in gently, his fingers closed around something cold and he withdrew the object gently, as if it were made of glass.

The contents were wrapped in a black velvet material, clearly for protection but without hesitation Voldemort pulled the fabric away.

If anyone else had been present… that could speak… they would have gasped at the beauty of the object. It was a long silver knife; however this was clearly a very special weapon. Inlaid into the handle were rubies and black diamonds, set in and around delicate interlacing patterns. Even Lord Voldemort, who had no true desire for material possessions, had to admit the sheer beauty of this dagger. But to his red eyes, lit like the rubies which now flickered in the firelight, the most beautiful and perhaps intimate part of the object was the dark, now dried, red substance which coated the length of the blade in worrying amount. Smiling cruelly down at the blood which resided on the silver, Voldemort then pulled out a length of parchment which had sat underneath. But he didn't focus in on the words written there in vivid red; instead he turned his attention to the far wall on the right.

There chained to the wall, hands behind him, sat a terrified Draco Malfoy. To anyone ignorant of Voldemort's information, there would still be a noticeable difference in the young Malfoy. There was a haunted expression in the once cocky eyes and his skin was (if possible) paler than it had ever been. Though he was relatively unharmed, the boy's fear of his Lord was as plain as was possible. The blonde's ragged breathing would have been very apparent in the air if it wasn't for the impenetrable silencing spell that held his tongue and muted any sound he could possible make.

"You have little to fear Draco" said Voldemort softly, cocking his head at the youth in an amused fashion as he saw the wince when his name was mentioned.

"Your tale is a wonder."

There was silence for a moment as Voldemort considered something.

"However…" there was a dangerous edge now to the silky tone "…you say the boy was alive at the time of his disappearance." A nod was the best Draco could do, but it was enough.

"Then Potter knows of his fate. He will inevitably inform Dumbledore and his little order of everything he knows, effectively altering future events."

Draco's hands shook in their binds at this, terrified of his Lord's anger which he presumed would rear its ugly head… but it didn't.

"Though Potter could unravel my glorious future, nothing is certain. It will not occur the same way as it would have without the time interference, that much is plain, but just because the way there may change, the result doesn't have to. In fact, though Potter knows what is to come, thanks to you Draco, I now know also. My victory could come more swiftly than it would have."

Voldemort paused, eyes glancing down at the parchment.

"If Potter was as grievously injured at the point of travel as you have told me Draco, it might explain the boy's apparent weak state lately." A dreadful smile curved onto the white face. He now spoke quietly to himself.

"It is possible the boy took his injuries with him. Whomever sent him to the past may have slipped up somewhere in their incantation." He fingered the knife carefully.

"Perhaps it's time to put pressure on his wounds."

Xxxxx

Snape had just returned to his experimenting with Harry's blood in order to determine what was affecting the boy, after filling in every detail to the headmaster. Dumbledore sat alone in his office in a state of more worry than had possessed him in a long time. How could he be so foolish in his attention to Harry… but the boy had been healing. Even the headmaster had never heard of any magical harm that could suddenly attack a person without warning after lying dormant for so long. He and Severus were thinking the same thing and it didn't bode well with the chances of saving Harry. This was a future concoction of Toms, or at least, created under his orders.

Standing up to check on the baby Fawkes, Dumbledore sighed heavily. Though Snape would never think the boy important enough for such attention to detail, as his prejudice against him was so strong, Dumbledore wondered if this poison or curse was created specifically for Harry by the monster that was so determined to destroy him. Dumbledore believed it was very likely that Voldemort would go to such lengths to truly destroy Harry- he wouldn't risk a repeat of the attempt he had made all those years ago. The headmaster knew Voldemort feared another incident such as that and would try anything in order to protect himself, but just how far had the dark wizard had gone was the question.

Taking the short walk down to the hospital wing for the fourth time that morning, Dumbledore still felt the haunting shiver when he entered and turned toward Harry's bed.

Harry was awake and was calm, but he had still not escaped what Albus supposed to be the confines of his own mind. The boy slipped in and out, recognising them in the present, sometimes mumbling things from the past, muttering about the future and even shouting profanities thinking they were his enemies. Albus had attempted a gentle nudge of Legilimens but he was unsuccessful, the boundaries of Harry's mind were frail and a push too far on them could be detrimental to the young man's sanity, causing more harm than already seemed evident.

Madame Pomphrey had performed a boundary charm around the hospital wing which on recognising Harry's magical signature prevented him from leaving if he did try to run. So far, he had kept to his bed and there he sat now, eyes glossy. The dead eyes were quite unnerving, even though this seemed to be the most regular state of mind.

As Albus watched the unmoving body, looking hollowed out and lifeless, he wandered what could have caused such an instant attack of both pain and madness. Something which had manifested itself in Harry with the blade wounds had been triggered very suddenly and aggressively.

"Albus"

The quiet voice broke Dumbledore from his thoughts and he turned to the matron who was standing looking at him, with a very worried expression. Madame Pomphrey had seemed to have lost her fiery attitude and overbearing manner lately. No doubt it was due to the fact she could do-what seemed like nothing to her- for her patient. And this was not just a patient, Dumbledore was aware that Poppy had always had a soft spot for the boy. He knew she felt guilt at her inability to help him and he was right. To the usually controlling woman, she had lost her ability to assist and mend.

But Albus didn't express any of this to her, instead he gave her a small smile "Poppy, how is he?"

Despite her sombre attitude, Pomphrey managed a sad smile back. "Since the forty minutes you've been gone you mean? Well, his condition hasn't changed. He hasn't said much. I think his conscious had withdrawn inside his mind once more."

"I see".

"Has Severus had any luck in identifying the source?" she asked, trying to keep the tone of desperation out of her voice.

"No substantial results yet, however he did inform me that an unusual reaction occurred with one of his brews so he is attempting it again to find the same result. If it happens again, he may be able to determine what exactly is in Harry's blood which is causing the reaction."

Madame Pomphrey even looked relieved at this very small, but hopeful piece of information. Yet she could not help the words that tumbled out of her mouth. "Why is this happening Albus?" it wasn't really a question and it wasn't one that had a satisfactory answer. "He is only a boy… and he had been recovering, I can't understand why he would suddenly be struck down."

Dumbledore paused for a moment before sighing softly "I have a feeling Severus might be right in thinking that Voldemort is accelerating or pushing the process in some way."

She turned to look at him with frightened, round eyes "But how could he know headmaster?" she gasped.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I thought it almost impossible, but looking back to the day Harry voiced his concerns of Voldemort having knowledge of all these events, perhaps the panic in Harry had not simply been a thought coupled with an over-reaction. Perhaps the thought came from a slip from Voldemort's own mind. I had thought it was simply fear that fuelled Harry's rather alarming panic, but there might have been something behind it."

Pomphrey looked aghast but said nothing.

"I realised that it might be the case after Severus explained of his meeting with Voldemort- Tom gave too many hints which point to his knowing. But for definite I cannot be sure and as to how, well that eludes me even more."

It was not often that Albus Dumbledore didn't have some sort of 'theory' of how and why things occurred but this was one of those rarities. He had considered the possibility that perhaps more than just Harry had been sent through time but that theory had too many holes in it. Dumbledore knew that whatever magic had been used in transporting Harry was of great power and required much strength and study. The idea that more than one person had been sent back was impossible when looking at it realistically... and to the exact same time was even more impossible. Time travel was extraordinarily tricky business…

However the possibilities of magic, light and dark, should never be underestimated.

Xxxxxx

At that moment, many floors down, Severus Snape was pouring over a cauldron, watching as the contents turned that same vivid red as before. Though this technically solved nothing, Snape was somewhat relieved to get some indication of irregularity. It certainly pointed all hands to his theory of the problem being a poison and not a curse.

So they key to identifying what was mingled in Potter's blood lay in isolating what was causing the red reaction. It would take time, but at least it was a direction to take.

Having laid out each ingredient contained in the potion, the professor frowned at each one. Any one of them, or a combination of any amount could be what was showing the irregularity in the blood…so how to figure exactly which was the problem?

Leaving each ingredient to stew in separate pots, Snape left his refuge to talk with the matron about his small findings. Unfortunately, general healers, even fantastic ones such as Madame Pomphrey were not trained in specific poisons and curses, just a general overview. He knew Potter would be referred to a specialist if the situation had been different but that was too risky and the boy could not be sent to St. Mungo's- he would be easy prey there.

Entering the ward for the umpteenth time in the last two days, Snape glanced around for the matron. He frowned seeing the light in her office on. But before he called upon her, something took him over to the single patient's bed. 'Just to have a look for further symptoms' Snape told himself firmly.

Yet as he approached the bed and stared down for a moment, a heaviness fell upon his shoulders and for reasons that would forever elude him, Snape threw himself into a chair near the bed and sat there glaring into space. He would probably blame it on stress, but his dark eyes couldn't help but eventually turn to the body in the bed, carefully avoiding the staring and yet unseeing eyes.

'Why must I be cursed?' Snape wondered tiredly. His exhaustion took over for a moment and his laid his head into his hands sighing deeply. If anyone was there to witness the scene it would have looked like he was grieving.

The potions master raised his head again, the corner of his eyes catching a glimpse of the pale green eyes as he sat back. It had always killed him that the spawn of James Potter would have those eyes that were always so precious to him. He had always put to down as a form punishment for his past misdeeds that he would have to live with seeing those orbs every day. In a way he was grateful Potter had always fought against him and not succumbed to the harshness with which Snape treated him. It was more than Snape could bear to see hurt that he caused in Lily's eyes. The moment Potter had thrown him through the hospital doors Snape's immediate reaction was fury, however when he sat up and saw the fear that was in the boy's face and more importantly in those eyes, something had gripped the man's cold heart and squeezed it painfully.

Slumping back in the chair he occupied he rested his elbow on one arm and clenched the bridge of his nose. He didn't think he could ever feel anything but hate for the boy that lay in front of him, but the past two weeks had been somewhat of an eye-opener. Despite being aware of the danger Harry was destined to face for a long time and being around each time the boy nearly got himself killed, this time was different. He had never been truly at the forefront of seeing Potter's trials. Oh yes he had saved him and kept an eye on him throughout his years, but never had he fully realised that Potter might die. Snape had seen arrogance in the boy for so long and that irritating luck that he seemed to possess…but Snape could see no luck in this situation. He hadn't taken the time to consider what the fifteen year old had gone through in the future…only what he had seen in his mind. Being well aware of the dark Lord's usual methods of dealing with his captives, let alone the ultimate captive, Snape couldn't see how Harry had survived with his mind intact let alone his limbs. The abominable luck had reared its head and somehow saved Potter even from a wound to the heart, but now it had finally run out.

As he sat there, Snape realised how alone the boy was in the world. The horrific truth was realised by the man when he somehow suddenly grasped that he, Severus Snape, hated potions master and scum death eater was the only one there…he was Harry's only visitor.

Undoubtedly Pomphrey and Dumbledore cared for him, but the lack of family was more apparent than it had ever been to Snape. The boy had no mother…no lily… even Snape himself had had a mother present in his life, even if his father wasn't worth much. Even the possibility that even James Potter would have been some sort of consolation for the boy was even arguable. But he had no one. The wing was empty. Yes he had his irritating friends, but there was no one there who could truly care for the fifteen year old.

Even Black might have… 'No way will I ever say that Black would have been in any way useful!'

Snape scowled at where his thoughts had led him and pushed them away. Avoiding any route his mind would consider taking along those lines of thought, Snape noted how quiet it was. It was eerie sitting there with Potter's corpse like body. He looked over the hands that were visible from underneath the teenager's sleeves. They looked cold and pale.

"Damn you Potter" he muttered. He had all but screamed at Harry to get out on their last encounter alone, but despite whatever he felt for him, the boy's life was in danger and no amount of hatred could deny that.

Standing up, he decided to have his intended chat with Pomphrey about possible symptoms, and yet he didn't immediately turn. Something niggled at his brain. Peering down at the boy's hands again, which were laid on the outside of his coverings Snape saw a red rash of dry skin around the side of the wrist and craning his neck he could see it continued down his hands. Frowning inquisitively, Snape dared to reach for the cold wrist. Luckily, unlike the last time, Potter didn't react. Feeling his pulse he noted that it was fast, the matron had informed him of this earlier but he had dismissed it as just a sign of the trauma on the body… but perhaps it was an indicator…?

Something started to form in the keen mind. It was something he had never considered simply due to the fact that the potency used in poisons and potions would kill someone too quickly to be what they were dealing with here. Yet perhaps there was a control added to it…

Was it that ingredient that was interfering with his potion below? Ginger was a key ingredient to the pale yellow potion he had brewed several times and the ingredient in question did not react well to ginger under certain circumstances. It couldn't be the only ingredient in what he was dealing with, but it very well could be one of the major components of the poison within the blood.

It was belladonna.

The bouts of madness Potter had exhibited lately suddenly made sense. In large amounts, Belladonna could cause hallucinations and delirium.

Turning to glance at the matron's office he knew he should inform her, but before he did Snape hesitated. There had to be a control on the belladonna which was mixed into the poison.

Quicker than should be possible, belladonna based poisons flew through Snape' mind, running each one along with the visible symptoms Potter was showing, but none of them matched. Any of the known belladonna poisons would have killed its victim long before this, particularly if it was lacing a weapon. The substance would have been driven directly into the body and for god's sake, the boy's heart had been pierced with it! And if the dosage hadn't been large, signs still would have appeared much earlier than now.

Growling he stepped away from the bed and turned to glare at an offending wall, not quite believing that he didn't know what concoction he was dealing with. This had never happened to the potions master before; he didn't earn the title 'master' for nothing!

But despite this breakthrough Snape paled. If it indeed was belladonna, they had no telling how fast the poison would accelerate now it had been triggered. But he couldn't brew an antidote until he found out what other ingredients were involved, the last thing Snape needed was to actually kill the boy in his attempts to revive him.

Fixing his collar and his expression, Snape turned to head toward the office, at least having some sort of update to tell the nurse, however he didn't get far. If it wasn't for his self-control, Snape would have jumped out of his skin as a white arm shot out from behind him and grasped his arm, pulling him back with unusual strength.

The greasy-haired man found himself looking into the wide eyes of Lily Potter and immediately his breath caught in his throat. But there was something off in the eyes that dragged his mind back to the situation. Though they were still round and pale there was a stirring of recognition in the orbs as the hand pulled the professor in tighter.

Snape couldn't help but be slightly disgusted but he was in too much shock, however the words spoken next froze his blood in his veins.

"He's in here" was the shaky rasp "He's in my head, I can't get out…" Harry's voice was soft yet clearly terrified and his fingers shook and they tried their best to keep the potions master in close proximity to hear what he had to say. "H-help me, please!"

The desperation was unbearable and just as Snape opened his mouth to speak to Harry, the boy's fingers stiffened and he let go of the black material of Snape's sleeves and collapsed back onto the bed before his mouth opened in a horrific yet silent scream.

Stepping back shakily, Snape drew his cloak around himself, staring in horror at the pain etched into the young face before him and just before Harry's screams became vocal, Snape turned and shouted down the ward for the nurse.

xxxxxx

I know I mentioned about Ron and Hermione, but I didn't feel the time was quite right… yet.

Thank you to all who have reviewed, put an alert or favourited this story.


	7. To Sleep

A/N: Major apologies for the ridiculous delay. Exam time is upon me, but in some universe this might count as study… Anyway, hope you enjoy. Apologies if there are errors, I wrote it speedily.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing except the delusion that fan fiction counts as study.

Chapter 7: To Sleep

Draco Malfoy had always prided himself on who he was, his name and blood-status gave him superiority. He had always known this. However things were different now. Oh so different. All he had seen, all he done…it had changed him. Was the change for the better or worse? Well it depended on what side you were on.

If you had told the eleven year old Draco Malfoy that he was to be charged with travelling through time to inform the Dark Lord of his future victory and other such important information, his young grey eyes would have sparkled with wonder, greed and a sense of self-importance beyond measurement. Now those eyes were dull and tired but forever possessed with a startled air of fear, like a mouse about to be cornered. His frame was thinner than it had ever been and his chin seemed all the more pointed because of it. Draco hadn't known what to think when the dark Lord had succeeded. Hogwarts burned and his most of his fellow students lay around him, some existing only in limbs or heads. It had made him sick to his stomach.

Things had changed for him that day. From then on his mother stopped speaking and stayed in obedient silence under the crumbling reputation of his father, who had never regained true favour with their master. Lucius Malfoy did everything in order to win his reputation back; it scared and disgusted Draco when he watched his father crawl around after their master trying to lap up any form of forgiveness that came his way.

Draco was accepted into the ranks of the Death Eaters in a lowly position, but he was never treated with the same disdain that followed his father. It would be lies to say that Draco had never dreamed of being welcomed into Voldemort's circle and even be honoured above the rest of his own family. But the reality of this situation was very different than he had always imagined. He was still treated like dirt and the missions that were required of him gave him nightmares beyond anything he thought possible.

He never knew why he was the one chosen to travel back and inform his lord of future events but most importantly of Harry Potter's disappearance. There had been untameable panic when Potter had suddenly disappeared- barely alive, but alive none-the-less and the anger and fear that radiated from the Dark Lord when he learned exactly where…or when… his boy rival had gone was unforgettable. Over twenty death eaters were killed that day simply due to the dark wizard's frustration…luckily Draco hadn't been present at the moment it happened. It didn't take much time to torture the correct information out of the right people in order to learn exactly what had transpired and this coupled with the masterful sorcery of Voldemort, led to a similar spell being concocted to send someone back in the same manner as Potter. Draco supposed he was chosen because he was expendable if something was wrong and he was known for trembling in the Dark Lords presence- he and the other death Eaters knew that Draco simply couldn't betray his master. He was too afraid of the consequences, even if it was in another time.

As he walked down the dimply lit hallway, slow on his feet as they were still numb from his incarceration at the hands of his Lord, Draco stopped outside an all too familiar door. It was his room.

The pale blonde sighed and pushed open the oak door by the handsome silver handle. As he stepped inside a flood of memories came to his mind, things that seemed so long ago now.

The green wallpaper was as expensive and perfect as he remembered it. His four-poster bed stood out in its size even in the huge room. Closing the door behind him the now fifteen year old just stood and looked around him. He was almost too afraid to touch anything in case it would suddenly disappear.

Draco Malfoy could never explain to anyone how odd and confusing it felt to be at one moment aged seventeen in one timeline and then suddenly be fifteen again and in a completely different time. His body felt weird to him and his home even weirder. Though the Dark Lord had always retained his headquarters at Malfoy Manor, Draco was not of high enough rank to merit as handsome a room as his own. He hadn't seen it or his possessions in a long time; even if they had still existed in the future he had come from.

Sitting on the bed the boy marvelled in its softness for a moment before his mind involuntarily turned to darker places. Draco felt safer now that he had relayed his mission and message to the Dark Lord as he had been instructed to do by the future Dark Lord and presented him with the objects as instructed, but still unease ate away at him. Somewhere in a dark corner of the boys mind he wondered if it was a wise thing to do. He had hated his future life and now he had cast the die which would bring it about all over again and most likely in a swifter timeframe. Leaning over he placed his head in his hands. As he rubbed his eyes tiredly he caught sight of a silver picture frame over on the mantelpiece on the left wall. Squinting his eyes, he saw it was a picture of him and his mother. Draco was about aged ten in the photo and was smirking as cockily as possible out towards the viewer as his mother smiled at him patiently.

Something stung when he looked at the photo. He had been so different then. Up until his sixteenth birthday Draco had remained the same. But now he was forever changed. Oh he still held on to his haughtiness when he needed to put on a pretence but guilt forever ate at him over all the horrors he had committed or seen committed in front of him, all in the name of the Dark Lord. He used to have such admiration for the Death Eaters and always believed that he would be treated with the utmost respect when he joined them. But Draco had learned a hard lesson in his seventeenth year. His view of everything to do with Voldemort had shifted at the death of Severus Snape.

Draco stared dully at the carpet as he remembered that day. He hadn't known for a while that it had happened but the news hit hard when it did. To this day Draco didn't understand why. From what he had heard, the Dark Lord had killed Snape for no reason; even announcing him as a loyal servant, but the Dark Lord had needed something. So he killed his most trusted and accomplished man simply because he was in the way of something. From hearing that Snape had been murdered for such small things, Draco's illusions shattered like glass and he had known that there would never be any respect given to any Death Eater by their Lord. They were all servants and were expendable. Snape had been the most favoured and look what had happened to him. But that wasn't all that truly bothered Draco about the situation. Though he wouldn't admit it, he had grieved immensely for his teacher and mentor. It seemed like he was the last stable person to look up to and he had been crushed so easily, like one of his own potions ingredients. He hadn't even gotten a proper burial.

And now an extra weight had been added to Draco. He would have preferred dying a thousand deaths than admit it but when he had watched his Lord finger that knife, fear rose in his throat and he truly felt some sort of guilt over the fate of his long hated rival Harry Potter. However if you had said this to Draco he would have laughed derisively and turned away so you couldn't see the truth in his eyes- yes the future had changed the blonde haired man. He had always hated Harry Potter. He had gotten so much attention by everyone around him and for what? Draco never respected the other boy or anything he had done which others seemed to rave about. But he had seen the green-eyed boy in a state which maybe he had once hoped for in some dark place in his heart. When faced with the reality of that state, an innocent human being in so much pain, grief and humiliation that it cost them everything they had- well it was traumatising to watch. Draco had gone to school with the body he had so often seen sprawled out on the floor… lungs gasping desperately for breath and clinging to life, blood pooling around him... It was unsettling. More than once Draco had vomited after witnessing what his master had bestowed upon Potter. He had always waited until he left the room, but he would constantly see flashes afterward which brought him to his knees.

Shaking his head from these thoughts Draco frowned. He still hated Potter on some level, but it was changed now. The perseverance that he had displayed throughout everything always annoyed Draco. 'Saint Potter' he thought derisively, rolling his eyes almost out of habit. But as the words echoed in his head his expression fell back into nothingness. The most surprising thing about his school enemy was his never-ending attempts, no-matter how futile, to save people.

Draco swallowed a lump in his throat as he remembered laughing at Harry's struggles to get near his friends toward the end of the battle. His laughter was brought to an abrupt halt some time later when the severity of the situation hit him like a punch in the face. And even after that the Gryffindor bastard had to still play the hero. Something clawed at Draco's insides mercilessly as he tried to push these thoughts away.

"Pull yourself together" Draco finally muttered to himself and he walked slowly over to the window. It had obviously occurred to Draco that everyone who had died were now alive in this time. He supposed Potter was recovering somewhere under the watch of Dumbledore. The world of Hogwarts seemed like something from another life now, but Draco knew that is where Harry would have been brought. For one moment in which thoughts of the stone castle floated back to him, Draco smirked, knowing how delighted Professor Snape would be to see Potter for the summer.

Then it hit him. Snape was alive. For reasons unknown and perhaps the severity of the effect his death had had on Draco- not just because he had liked the man but because of the realities it had brought, the boy had simply forgotten that the potions master would be alive here. He had accepted that the dark Lords enemies were once again alive- but he had forgotten about the greasy haired man. A terrifying question came to Draco just as rain started to patter against the window. Would the Dark Lord simply discard him again, as easily as the last time?

Xxxxxx

There was deafening silence.

Morning had come to Hogwarts, but all was still silent. Even the birds seemed to have quietened down in respect of the situation inside the castle.

Severus Snape was not at breakfast that particular morning, nor was any professor in fact. As the clock struck seven am he was to be found standing and staring out an arched window located on the first level of the north tower. The professor had intended to take a stroll that morning in order to clear his head after the endless fumes from each one of his cauldrons and the screaming which took place last night. He hadn't been walking more than five minutes when he had stopped and taken to staring…or glaring out of this particular window as if the sky itself offended him.

His bad temper was particularly volatile that early hour due to lack of sleep and the absolute frustration of not having made further progress with his brews. Not to mention the constant headache due to the inner battle taking place inside him. On one hand he still harboured immense hatred for Harry Potter but to his irritation he knew that he had to help him. He had promised to protect Lily Evan's son and he would continue to try. But this wasn't the end of his argument with himself. There was some part of him that felt pity for the boy. Though it seriously displeased him that he should feel anything other than dislike, Snape allowed this to be so. Pity wasn't like sympathy or empathy, pity was acceptable as though it was a slight form of weakness, it was not a positive emotion and did install some sense of superiority in the person who pitied.

Standing on the stone step by the window, hands clasped behind him, dressed in his usual attire, Snape considered last night's events. The screams still rang in his head constantly.

When Potter had begun to scream there was no ending. The headmaster had come down but nothing could calm Harry down or bring him back to full reality. He had twisted and shook in his sheets, sometimes crying out, others letting out a drawn out, ear-wrenching scream. Either way, there was nothing to help him so the two professors and nurse had taken the only course of action. It was the only thing that would save the boy's sanity. He was fed an extremely powerful sleeping draught which unless given a potion to reverse the effects- which Snape had in his very private stores- ready when needed; the boy would sleep for a week solid. It was an enchanted sleep and should lessen the pain he was feeling and hopefully keep his mind from being invaded as frequently. It was a modified version of traditional sleeping draught, which Snape had created many years ago.

The professor frowned. He knew the potion was absolutely perfect but this was the first time he had actually seen it in effect. Though proud of his work, it was odd seeing his student lie in such a still and peaceful state. If it wasn't for his slow breathing he looked almost dead- but for once, not in pain. It would hopefully slow the poison down too as he continued his search for a cure. He was close… he had to be.

Finally stepping away from the window, Snape pulled himself up to full height and marched down the winding stair, cloak flowing soundlessly over the ground. 'No more of this nonsense' he told himself seriously 'I will cure the damn boy if it kills me.' His thoughts flickered to Lily before he dashed off for his dungeons where he was to spend the next ten hours.

Xxxxxx

A hiss of steam rose from the copper cauldron that had held the attention of the professor. Peering inside without taking a breath he examined the results. But upon seeing the milky lilac colour something in him snapped. His frustration at actually not being able to figure something in his own damn field was killing him. Whoever brewed the modified belladonna mixture was beating Snape at his own game.

"Useless!" he snarled, picking up a random object and smashing the vial of silver potion against the wall before he willed himself to calm down.

Placing his palms on either side of the table where the cauldron sat he breathed calmly. Who else in Voldemort's ranks or friends could make something of this magnitude? As far as he knew he was the only potions master within the death eater circle- but considering it was made two years from now the Dark Lord could have acquired other services.

Snape feared to tell Dumbledore that nothing was working- that they might have to take a chance with a general cure…but it was so risky. Snape grimaced. He knew that the Dark Lord used this for a reason on the boy; it was to make doubly sure that he would die. Snape smiled bitterly. A stab wound wasn't enough for the monster; he had to poison his nemesis. The potions master had to give his 'master' points for covering any chance of survival. But why didn't he just use Avada Kedavra or even slit the boys throat… he supposed that Voldemort worried about the previous ineffective results of Avada Kedavra against the boy-who-lived, but why he didn't finish it quickly was uncertain. Most likely he wished to give a more painful death than could be bestowed with a simple blade. The boy would have died in a minute if he hadn't received immediate medical attention. Was the poison a back-up in case Harry somehow managed to escape? It seemed impossible but his track record may have made the Dark Lord more careful.

Letting out a slow breath and pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape looked up. Everything about the situation was impossible. Time-travel, surviving a wound to the heart, clinging to life through a major dose of belladonna, Potter's blood turning black around the wound… he didn't understand any of it one bit. What else was mixed into the damn concoction?

Finally regaining control of his anger Snape took out his wand to vanish the mess on the wall when he stopped, his mouth about to say 'scourgify'. But he couldn't do it. His keen dark eyes watched the shining mixture that was sliding slowly down the stone, due to its treacle like qualities. A frown slowly formed on his thin face as he watched the drop curve in and out of the groves on the wall carefully making its way to the floor. And then as it sparkled and gleamed in its descent, the answer was there in the front of his mind.

It would explain the delaying of the death while giving the poison time to set in… a tiny amount would slow the appearance and effects, letting it cause damage before killing its victim. Snape strode over to the wall behind his desk and drew out his wand. Much like the entrance to Diagon Alley, the professor tapped each of the blocks in random pattern and waited. As soon as he waved his wand a further time the central stone came out with a grinding and the surrounding ones moved out and to the side, suspended in mid-air, revealing a cupboard-sized hole in the wall concealing a vast amount of jars and vials. He put his arm inside searching and pushing aside many an unpleasant object. His mind works as he searched. He couldn't believe it. It was unnatural, an offense against nature and the pollution of purity.

However he suddenly stopped. 'Why on earth would the dark lord inject something like that into Potter if he intended to kill him straight away?' The question ran through his head but came up with no answer except 'he wasn't going to kill him there on the spot.' It made no sense, two ingredients… one for death, the other for unnatural life, mixed together… but he had to be sure.

Finally his hand grasped a cool and yet tiny flask and he pulled it out. Taking a glance at it he nodded to himself before setting the wall back into place. That store held his most dangerous and expensive ingredients. Not even the headmaster knew of some of the mixtures that wall held.

Holding his little flask up he examined the contents. Inside a fluid silvery substance swam, much silkier and purer than the silver potion he had smashed- which paled in comparison in beauty.

Flying over to his last cauldron he stirred its contents- stewed belladonna berries. Taking up a small glass with a few drops of Harry's unpolluted blood he added it to the cauldron and reduced the heat. The potion turned a putrid green. This had happened countless times- but would the last ingredient change the results and finally get the right result?

Holding his breath and uncorking the little bottle he held it over the cauldron, before adding one tiny drop.

The result was instantaneous. A loud hiss rang out and the cauldron began to bubble furiously. Almost thinking his theory had been wrong, Snape cursed but then about three seconds later the noise stopped and the potion settles so quickly it was eerie. Taking a spoon up, Snape dipped it into the depths and brought it out. The liquid had turned a vivid black and had thickened- its consistency now resembled watered down syrup.

Snape froze as he saw it dribble over the spoon. He had found it. The missing ingredient to Potter's poison concoction- was unicorn blood.

Xxxxxx

Snape was astounded. Never before had he seen unicorn blood used in such a way. It was not meant to be tainted, not even meant to be drank however some extraordinarily rare potions did include it but most of them were highly illegal. Snape knew he would have to admit to having some in his stores but he had never abused it in any way.

Despite his confusion his temper lessened now that he finally had it. Waving his wand he banished all the mixtures except his last successful one before putting the tiny flask of silvery substance into his robes and sweeping from the room. He had to inform Dumbledore and Madame Pomphrey and also how one was supposed to reverse the effects of a brew containing something as unusual and unicorn blood.

His stress levels rose once more as he thought this true, but he pushed them back, settling on a glare to express his current mood.

When he finally reached the stone gargoyle he muttered the password (blood pops) and ascended the staircase. However before he had placed a knock upon the door he heard voices within. Perhaps Professor McGonagall had finally returned. With a sharp rap he entered the room and shut the door behind him.

However he wasn't expecting two faces to be looking at him.

Sitting across from a grave looking headmaster was Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The boy was extraordinarily pale and looked quite stiff, while Hermione had silent tears falling down her face.

Snape grit his teeth. This was all he needed, emotional teenagers.

"Headmaster I have made …ah, progress with my work." He stated stiffly, ignoring the other occupants.

Almost out of habit he expected the irritating twinkle to enter the old blue eyes he was currently staring at but unusually the headmaster let out a small sigh and game a tiny smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Excellent Severus" he paused for a moment looking at the two sixteen year olds in front of him. "I have just been informing Ms Granger and Mr Weasley of Harry's condition."

The two students turned away from Snape at this, unusually remaining silent.

The potions master raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that is wise Albus?"

"He's our best friend!" spat Ron, turning angry and fearful eyes at the dark haired man.

"I know this is serious business Severus but they have a right to know and I couldn't explain sufficiently without the full story. The truth is always better than lies or half-truths in my opinion."

Snape said nothing.

"I-I don't understand professor" whispered Hermione, speaking for the first time. "How is time travel of that nature even possible? We destroyed all the time turners at the ministry… but even with them…" She seemed unable to carry on and just fell silent.

"We are not sure ourselves Ms Granger but we should be able to figure it out. We have more than one strong brain among us." She smiled weakly in response but it fell from her face a moment later.

"Severus here has been attempting to find out exactly what is wrong with Harry and I have full confidence in him to succeed."

Ron was so shocked and subdued by the whole situation that he didn't even think to retort or make some comment about the ill intentions of their potions professor toward Harry.

Dumbledore stood up, his blue robes dragged on the floor as he walked around his magnificent desk. "I have explained to Harry's friends that we have induced him into sleep while we search for an antidote" He said this quietly to Snape "However they wish to spend the night with him."

Snape almost rolled his eyes. 'What good will that do?' he thought in annoyance, but he didn't speak this aloud. Instead he said "I doubt if Madame Pomphrey will agree."

"I have already spoken to Poppy and she has agreed. Harry needs his friends."

"Even if the boy doesn't know they're there?" asked Snape, a little harsher than he intended which earned a stern look from the old wizard in front of him.

No more was said in the quiet office until Dumbledore announced that they would all go to the hospital wing. "I will come to speak to Poppy with you about your progress and Ms Weasley and Granger can go sit with Harry."

Snape nodded stiffly and turned toward the door leading the way. Ron and Hermione followed. Ron's arm was around Hermione's shoulder. In Snape's opinion they were too immature to be dealing with such things.

As they entered the quiet wing, as evening started to fall outside, the lamps being lit early, the first view the company had was the only occupied bed. Ron went paler still if possible and Hermione gasped, her hand going to her mouth. "Oh Harry-"she whimpered and the two of them slowly approached the bed.

Harry lay there looking rather peaceful in comparison to the day before. His skin was pale and his bandages were visible on his chest at the top of his nightshirt. His glasses were off, sitting on the nightstand making him look even younger than he was. Against the white skin, the scar down his eyes was quite prominent despite its progress. His hair was sticking up all over the place as it always did and his mouth was closed in a perfect straight line. It was as if someone had positioned him that way. But Snape knew that was the effect of the sleeping draught. The person always looked peaceful.

As he watched the final two of the golden trio approach the bed he waited for them to burst into tears, to break down, to completely lose it. But it didn't happen. Hermione approached the bed first and almost hesitantly put a hand to Harry's cheek. More tears spilled down her cheeks but she wasn't sobbing. With a glance at Ron she pulled up a chair for herself beside the bed as close as possible and immediately took a gentle hold of Harry's hand and squeezed it. She didn't let go either, she simply held it and looked over as Ron sat the other side in the same proximity as she. He didn't take Harry's hand but he did give a small smile down at the figure and mutter a casual "Alright mate".

Dumbledore stepped up beside Snape, taking in the scene with him. "I have asked them not to tell a soul about Harry's condition. I will inform all the Order members myself when the time is right. This news should spread under no circumstances. I know Molly will be severely tempted to murder me when she finds out but for the moment I feel this is best."

"You can hardly stop the woman Headmaster; she will enquire as to her son's whereabouts."

"Mr Weasley has told his family that he is at Ms Granger's house and Vice Versa. They can use that excuse for now".

This time he gave a true smile. "Harry is lucky to have such friends" he said softly, not looking at Snape but the potions master knew the comment was said to him. He didn't reply but couldn't stop glancing over in curiosity at the behaviour of the two. Dumbledore smiled again and stepped past him, heading down to the nurse's office. It took the dark haired man a few seconds to realise he was left behind and with a last frown at the bed he glided after Dumbledore. As he entered the small office he couldn't help but think how Weasley and Granger were like Potter's bodyguards.

Xxxxx

The professors spent the next two hours in the matron's office speaking about the best course of action to deal with the impossibility of a mixture of unicorn blood and belladonna. Dumbledore remained silent for much of the discussion between the potions master and the nurse, which served to infuriate the two of them. As the clock ticked away, Snape finally turned on him. "What do you think Headmaster?"

There was a pause as Dumbledore pondered, staring at nothing in particular.

"Voldemort is the only one who has polluted such a pure ingredient in this manner. There is no certainty as to what will happen or how to counter it."

Snape stiffened, while Pomphrey turned her head in worry to the door no doubt feeling for the poor boy on the other side of it.

"However, I am not a potions master."

He looked at Severus, not smiling but there was something there.

"Albus, this is completely unprecedented, I-"Snape was cut off in his counter speech.

"You have a brilliant brain Severus, always have."

Why did Snape suddenly feel like he was a student once more? This kind of treatment was the sort of thing that made him only address the elder man by his first name every now and again, preferring the title 'headmaster'.

"I will assist wherever I can." Finished Dumbledore and Madame Pomphrey said the same in a much sterner tone than Snape had heard from her recently.

"Very well" Snape said stiffly and he turned toward the door and exited to the hospital wing. With a kind nod to Madame Pomphrey Dumbledore followed him out.

As the strolled past Harry's bed, something made Snape look unconsciously. There on the bed, lying up beside Harry was Hermione. She had an arm around him as she lay on top of the covers, apparently fast asleep. Ron was still in his chair awake but his hand had found Harry's shoulder and uncharacteristically, he seemed horribly sad but looked serious and protective of the two bodies asleep in front of him.

Dumbledore headed for the door slowly, giving a smile to the scene before him. Though it was laced with worry he knew Harry was well protected now and he left without a word.

"He won't wake for a few days Mr Weasley" said the potions master coldly, speaking directly to Ron. Ron looked up and looked at Snape angrily "Yeah well unconscious or not he's our best friend. We're not leaving him."

Snape didn't know what to say to this- it seemed like an unnecessary annoyance to him- and so with a stern look back he swept from the room.

xxxxxx


	8. Going too far

Major apologies for the preposterous wait between chapters and once again, I do not own HP.

Xxxxx

Chapter 8: Going too far

They had done it.

Severus Snape was rarely surprised and rarely did he question his abilities in potion making, however over the past two days these particular things had come about. Forty eight hours of constant working had taken its toll on the tall, black haired man. His hair was greasier than usual and dark circles rimmed his eyes giving him an even more alarming appearance than usual.

The potion had not been easy. The headmaster had assisted, particularly in the problem of the unicorn blood. To counter belladonna and the effects of unicorn blood at the same time was both unprecedented and almost impossible. Each ingredient which countered the belladonna reacted badly with the unicorn blood which caused the potion to congeal with each attempt at a combination. And how could you 'cure' something as pure as unicorn blood. The problem was, you simply couldn't. They considered removing the unicorn blood from the boy's bloodstream, but as the blood seemed to be slowing the belladonna down, its removal from the body in order to treat the belladonna alone could speed up the poison. Unicorn blood was so pure and potent that it never fully integrated into the body as would happen with most potions ingredients, so it could be removed as a separate substance with the use of magic, but the speed of the poison problem had remained. Until now that is.

The potions master clenched a tiny bottle filled with a pure black liquid. The colour brought a smirk of irony to Snape's face. Once the poison was neutralised, the effects should wear off Harry, pushing away the hallucinations and fits that were brought on by the poison. Personally, Snape couldn't wait until the boy was healed. Oh don't make the mistake that he was worried, he just couldn't stand the constant responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders and the rather…unsettling behaviour of the boy. Though he would never have believed it if you had told him before these events, Snape almost wished for the arrogant Potter to reappear so he could go back to hating him and dishing out sharp comments. That was the way it should be.

Extinguishing the fire beneath the small bubbling cauldron, Snape eyed the multiple, neatly arranged glass bottles on the table, much like the one in his hand. Each were filled with the same potion and antidote, waiting to be administered. Snape wasn't sure how many doses would bring Potter back to full health so he had brewed enough to be sure. Setting aside the one in his hand and another two, he waved his wand and watched the tiny vessels glide neatly up onto his top shelf in his office.

Turning back to his working table he picked up a piece of parchment and folded it neatly, slipping it inside his robes. It contained the ingredients and instructions to the antidote. Casting an eye over the leftover ingredients, Snape's head ran through each of the contents. It had taken over fifteen ingredients to get the balance right and prevent the reaction with the unicorn blood but he finally had it. The main components of his potion were a ground up bezoar, strengthened with a stewed dock leaf and a combination of several plants such as jewelweed and a sprinkling of charcoal. Though these ingredients were used in different antidotes, the key to the potion came about after an argument with the headmaster.

_x/x_

_Six hours earlier _

"_I told you Albus, it's not working! The antidote ingredients are not reacting well to the unicorn blood I've tested with. The potion will not work once it meets the unicorn blood in Potter's body."_

"_I know it is difficult Severus, but we-"_

_Snape cut him off "You mean me! I am the one doing the work around here Albus, the fact of which you are very aware."_

_Dumbledore sighed and sat back in his chair "I have not been of much help as of late I admit. But my concern for Harry has not lessened I assure you. But we cannot let the boy continue like this Severus. Your sleeping potion has slowed the effects and nulled the pain for him but Harry's body continues to succumb to the potion. I take it you noticed the growth of the blackened skin around the wound."_

_Snape shot him a look. Of course he had noticed. _

"_The poison is enveloping him and it is becoming more accustomed to Harry's body."_

_Snape didn't immediately; instead he just stared at the headmaster, his anger lessening slightly as his mind worked furiously._

"_Severus?"_

'…_becoming more accustomed to…'_

"_I think I've got it" Snape murmured steadily, his mind still scribbling mental notes. Yes, if he could get the correct balance it might work. It was so simple. _

_Without a further word, he strode from the office, determined not to be interrupted in his breakthrough_

_Present x/x_

Snape had spent the last few hours carefully monitoring the ingredients as he prepared them. It had come to him when the headmaster had said the poison was becoming accustomed to Potter's body. What if he could make the ingredients accustomed to the unicorn blood. And so he had spent four hours soaking each ingredient separately in a diluted solution of unicorn blood. Though it would never fully soak into the ingredients, as it was too pure, a very, very light coating of the unicorn blood gave the ingredients the power to bypass a reaction with the blood within Potter's body and so give the antidote properties a chance to work. So hopefully, success would follow. All that was left now was to administer it.

Xxxxx

After a quick discussion with a positively relieved Madame Pomphrey, Snape stepped out into the ward with the matron. He glared as the two teenagers who had been guarding Potter's bed were still in position, however they were sitting together and talking quietly. The potions master didn't miss the dark circles underneath their eyes.

He stood back as the nurse bustled over to them and explained to them the situation. Snape could hear some form of protest but it was quietened down. As he finally marched up to the bed, ready to scare the two from the room they were standing up.

"So we can come back in in about an hour Madame Pomphrey?" Hermione asked the nurse, looking reluctant to leave. At her nod the girl looked over the Ron who shrugged and the two of them exited through the double doors, the redhead looked back suspiciously at Snape's ever watchful eyes.

"Severus?" The voice drew Snape back to the task at hand and he turned to Potter's bed and the ever still body upon it.

"I think it is best to administer the first dose while Potter is still under the enchanted sleep. It should begin to take effect rather quickly. Though it won't fight the poison straight away-as it will require constant dosages- the effects such as the hallucinations should subside swiftly."

The nurse didn't reply as she pulled away some of the bandages off of Harry's chest very gently. She smiled to herself as she did until the gruesome mess of blackened skin met her eyes. It had indeed spread even further, now down to the stomach.

Snape looked at the discolouration with both distaste and unease. "The blackening effect is showing the spread of the poison" he noted out loud "so we should see some retreat of the discolouration as the potion takes effect. Potter will need to ingest the antidote and it would be wise to administer some directly to the skin, as it should speed up the recovery process. We will have to wait for Potter to awaken for him to swallow the potion, but it can go directly onto the wound now to begin the healing and to make sure he is in his right mind, when he wakes…at least more so than he has been lately."

There was no jeer or sarcasm in that statement; it was said with both a neutral expression and voice.

He passed to small black bottles to the nurse and she sat them on the bedside cabinet. Uncorking one, the nurse stood over the body before her and very carefully held the bottle about five centimetres away from the skin and tipped. Several drops fell from its contents and splashed onto the skin. Snape watched with great intensity to make sure there was no adverse reaction immediately apparent. And when there wasn't the nurse continued, pouring the entire contents over the black skin. As the slightly thick solution spread over the skin it looked quite grotesque, like tar enveloping the teen's chest, however Snape was happy with the situation. There was no sign of any negative results.

Madame Pomphrey looked up at him with a slight smile. He returned it with a stony expression, but he did nod at her, showing he was pleased.

"Well done Severus" she said, placing the empty bottle on the cabinet.

"We don't know that it works yet" he said sharply.

"It's a start" she whispered.

Xxxxx

It was dinner time before Snape and the nurse joined each other once more around Harry's bed. They made the use of the time Hermione and Ron were down having dinner with the headmaster in the great hall to check any results and consider waking the sleeping child before them. The nurse didn't want to upset them by telling them he might be waking soon, if it wasn't possible to do so yet. Snape didn't see why that mattered.

Madame Pomphrey pulled out her wand and slowly moved it over Harry. It was a minute before she said anything. Snape stood at the edge of the bed rather awkwardly, staring at nothing in particular. He would rather spend a week living in Gryffindor tower than admit he was anxious. It had been a while since he had developed a new potion and waiting to hear of its success was always irritating. Particularly if it involved a…delicate situation.

When she looked up, he raised an eyebrow in obvious question and was met with a relieved and smiling face. "The potion is fighting the poison."

He hardly dared believe her. She then waved her wand and once more undid the bandages over the boy's chest. Though it was still black there was a faint difference. Around the edges of the blackened skin, which resembles a burn, there was flesh that was fading to a pink colour. It was a success; the antidote potion was fighting back the poisoning.

Something inside Snape was released and he felt some of the pressure fall from his shoulders when he saw that tiny, positive change.

"These results are positive. If the potion is working as I intended, Potter's mental state should have improved. It may be safe to wake him."

Snape stopped for a second after he had uttered those words. Did he actually just suggest they return the bane of his existence to consciousness?

"Oh thank goodness. I hate seeing him here like this."

Snape looked at the woman carefully. The nurse never usually chose favourites but he knew that she had a soft spot for Potter.

"It will be good for him to see his friends" she finished, as she went to fetch the awakening potion Snape had supplied her with after they put Harry under.

Snape couldn't help but disagree. Though the boy hadn't told them everything, he had never mentioned his friends. That was either because they survived, so he didn't need to worry about them…or the opposite. They would find out soon enough.

"We should fetch the headmaster for Harry's awakening" Madame Pomphrey called from her office.

Severus didn't bother with a reply; he silently agreed and swept from the room down the great hall.

Xxxxx

Green eyes fluttered open. Blinking repeatedly to rid himself of the heavy feeling Harry saw the room swim into focus in a confusing blur of colour. He tried to lift a hand to rub his eyes but he found his limbs were numb. The instant panic dissolved a little as he felt something creep back into his fingers and he could move them slightly. The tingling feeling crept up his arms and down his body. It was uncomfortable but not painful. He let out a small groan at the twinging of his chest, as the feeling returned to him.

"W-where am I?" he mumbled, squinting upward.

"You are in the hospital wing Mr Potter" said a female voice from his left.

"What is the last thing you remember?" asked the same voice from before.

Harry placed the soft tones as those of Madame Pomphrey and he relaxed a little. He was safe.

Racking his tired brains he thought back.

"Porridge" he said finally, not realising that this word was met with worried looks. "I was having breakfast…great hall…"

His company relaxed slightly. That would be when Snape had found him collapsed. So the boy didn't remember his outbursts and screaming.

"I feel weird" Harry said quietly, as he flexed his hand.

"Don't worry Mr Potter, it is simply an effect of a potion you were given."

Harry frowned at this but said no more. He still felt very sleepy.

"We will give you some time to gather yourself and rest." Decided Madame Pomphrey and he nodded his thanks, not looking around to see who 'we' was. Everything felt weird, it seemed as if his head was stuffed with cotton wool, so Harry closed his eyes and lay into the pillows allowing his mind to slowly come back to any sense of normalcy.

Xxxxx

Harry had been left to rest for several hours under the watchful eye of the matron and the headmaster. Snape had disappeared in the hour when Harry was finally able to sit up and take in his surroundings properly. The last effects of the sleep potion faded from his body bringing back familiar pain. However this was aided by several pain relievers and a dose of a black potion Harry didn't recognise by sight or taste. He took them all without question. He didn't have the mental energy to take in any information of that sort anyway.

As the clock struck eleven that night, Harry found himself in bed within the lit hospital wing facing his headmaster, who despite Harry's newly gathered state, had a slightly wrinkled and worried expression on his old face. Dumbledore was sitting in a chair with his hands resting in his lap watching harry carefully. He had not informed Harry of the memories the boy had lost nor did he tell him exactly what had gone on. He would wait until tomorrow to remind him of those stressful happenings. He had simply informed the green-eyed boy that he had been given a strong sleeping potion to aid his healing. Though he knew Harry was suspicious, the teenager didn't voice these.

Due to his sensitive stomach, Harry only consumed a light broth for his supper at that late hour. His hands were still a bit clumsy so a bewitched spoon fed him his watery soup, much to Harry's embarrassment. He had refused to be spoon-fed by any of the small company which surrounded him.

Dumbledore retrieved an unusual pocket watch from within his robes and glanced at it.

"I fear you will get no sleep tonight my boy, as you seem to have done plenty of that as of late"

Harry didn't smile at the small joke but he nodded "I always seem to be in this bed sir"

"You shall be up and walking around a bit tomorrow Harry…if our strict matron allows it of course."

Despite feeling rested, something niggled uncomfortably at the back of Harry's mind do he didn't appreciate the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye as he spoke. However he didn't have to look at the damned blue eyes for long, as Dumbledore got to his feet. "I'm afraid I have some work to do tonight if I might excuse myself Harry."

"No problem sir" murmured Harry, quite happy to be left alone for a while.

Dumbledore didn't leave immediately however. He seemed to hover awkwardly, which was a sight to see in the usually relaxed and content man.

"I know you have been through a lot, but there are two people very eager to see you my boy."

Harry looked up, a frown forming on his face. "Sir?"

"I understand it may be hard but you will find strength in your friends Harry."

Harry's blood instantly ran cold and he stared at the headmaster. He couldn't mean… no, he wasn't ready to deal with all the things they would bring up!

Though deep down Harry wanted to see his friends, at the surface he was too terrified of what seeing them would actually mean for him. They could never understand…

But Harry's mouth stayed open uselessly, he could not voice his protest nor could he speak of anything else. So he watched helplessly as Dumbledore's purple robes slid on the ground, heading towards the hospital wing doors and Harry knew who and what lay beyond them… but he was frozen.

But it was too late. The doors opened slowly and before he could form a thought there they were and Dumbledore was gone.

Harry's pale face stared at them, green eyes wide. And they stared back.

Harry's eyes darted from one face to the other, hungrily taking in their faces…their very much alive faces. Hermione looked quite pretty with her hair sticking out in the way it once did, her cheeks pink and her eyes almost shocked. Ron… Ron was as freckly as Harry had always kept him in his mind. His slightly too large nose protruded from his face in a way that was wonderful to Harry. His hair was as red as any of the Weasley's and though he seemed nervous, he threw Harry a lopsided grin that was so familiar Harry almost grinned back. But he couldn't. Something was stuck inside him as he took in their appearance. As he saw each familiar feature that he had missed and grieved for so desperately, Harry was punched in the stomach with an iron fist of memories emotions and denial. Even though he could see them here in front of him… he knew they were dead also. In his heart Harry had locked away their images to keep them alive when they were killed. But these images were tarnished by the sight of their bodies which he had witnessed and this picture took over the perfect one before him.

"Harry-"began Hermione and Ron muttered a "Hello mate" straight after.

The sound of their voices rang in Harry's head like a shout. He then realised that he had forgotten what they had sounded like. The fact that he had forgotten disturbed Harry deeply and he closed his eyes desperately storing away those sounds along with his images- perhaps even forgetting that his two friends were there in front of him.

His behaviour scared the two teenagers in front of him and they glanced at each other worried.

Hermione bit her lip and took a step toward the bed. But the second her shoe landed on the floor green eyes snapped open and Harry stared at her with an almost pleading look in his eyes.

"Don't".

It was quiet but definite and Hermione instantly stopped, her eyes immediately showing hurt and confusion…and fear.

"Harry-" said Ron, more strongly than his previous words.

"Please…don't" Harry shook his head and looked away from their faces.

"I can't do this. Please I'm begging you. Leave"

The two friends stared at their lost friend and then looked to each other. Neither of them missed the tear rolling down Harry's cheek as he sat in the bed, looking at the wall. He seemed ready to break at any moment so Hermione retreated back to Ron. Though she didn't understand, she knew they were causing hurt so without a word she tugged on Ron's sleeve and pulled him out of the room, a tear falling down her cheek to match Harry's while Ron just stared back as he was led away.

xxxxx

Hopelessness and grief flooded Harry as the two disappeared but he couldn't bring himself to call them back. He just couldn't look at them. Their presence was both wonderful and devastating. Harry didn't want them to see what he had become nor did he want to remember what had happened to them… it was his fault- all his fault- and no one could convince him otherwise. He had sat in the darkness of Voldemort's captivity with the weight if their deaths and so many others for what had seemed like forever. He had failed the world and his friends had paid a part of that price. Simply being his friend had gotten them killed and the same would happen again. They were better off without him and he knew it. He couldn't let them back into his life. It would be too painful when he would eventually lose them all over again.

Harry felt as if the walls around him were closing in and he began to sweat with the battle growing within him. Gritting his teeth he peered around to make sure the ward was empty before throwing his coverings off him and sliding his legs from the bed. As he placed his sock covered feet on the floor they felt slightly numb but he pulled himself up. Standing shakily, one hand holding onto the bedpost he grabbed at the dressing gown that hung nearby and managed to pull it over himself with one arm. After a few moments he steadied himself and walked-slightly shakily- toward the doors and out into the lit corridors. The sensation in his legs returned with each stop and soon he had left the ward far behind, determined for fresh air.

Taking extra care on the staircases Harry arrived at the front doors of the castle and with some difficulty shouldered open the right one before closing it behind him, leaving it very slightly ajar in order to get back in.

It was about midnight and the cold air hit Harry's face harshly but he welcomed the gulps of damp air into his lungs. He didn't dare stray far from the doors so he moved over a few paces and sat on the top step leading to the castle doors and took in the sight before him.

The grounds were dark and shadowy but he could make them out by the luminous moon above. It was almost full, but not there quite yet. He supposed it would be fully round in a few days.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. The night helped clear his mind slightly…but he didn't dwell on the disastrous meeting with his friends. He never knew seeing them would have this effect on him. Yes he knew it would be bad but this… he couldn't even bear to think of them. One would think he would be overjoyed with a second chance with his friends but Harry only saw their motionless bodies before his eyes as if it was a premonition of what Harry's friendship would bring on the two people once more.

Choking back a sob Harry gazed at the ground. His eyes were dry now but he felt so empty. It was as if someone had scraped out his insides. He desperately wanted to talk to them but the desperation to avoid them was just as strong.

Harry suddenly cursed loudly. How he hated Voldemort for this. Look at what he had reduced Harry to… the boy was more ashamed that he had allowed it to happen, although eh supposed he didn't exactly allow Voldemort to kill his friends and torture him.

His body shook with dry sobs.

"You bastard" he choked out.

"Whomever you may be cursing Potter, I am certain you should be doing it in the hospital wing not outside the castle."

Harry jumped at the voice and the sudden intrusion on his privacy and his head flew around to find his old potions master standing by the door. His heart settled in his chest and he looked away from the man without a word.

Snape raised an eyebrow. He expected some form of insult or comment; however Harry just took to staring at the ground once more.

"Perhaps I was not clear, inside now Potter before you finish yourself off with a fever."

But he didn't move. This time Snape's eyebrows fell down into a frown and he was instantly annoyed. He opened his mouth to order the boy inside but he stopped as Harry spoke.

"How could you join him?"

The potions master was instantly taken back by the rather impertinent question and he stared down at the figure on the steps who was still looking at the ground. Though he had not specified there was no denying as to who Harry meant by 'him'.

"That is none of your business Potter. What gives you the right to ask such questions you stupid boy!"

His anger flared at the cheek of the boy before him, but his temper was only met with the same stillness.

"Have you any idea what he does to people?"

Snape said nothing. Of course he knew, he didn't like to dwell on it however and he was not about to indulge whatever game Potter was playing.

"Stop acting like the damaged hero Potter and get inside before I make you" he snapped, pointing a pale finger towards the heavy oak doors.

This time, Harry turned and looked at him. Green eyes met the dark ones for a moment before Harry looked off to the left and the potions master saw the shine on the scar down his eye in the moonlight.

Snape watched silently as the boy looked down at his hands. His palms faced upward and his fingers curled in on themselves. His full strength had not yet returned.

"You found some sort of cure didn't you sir? I feel…different."

Snape said nothing as it seemed Harry didn't require an answer and Snape had trouble admitting to the boy that he had helped him. As he looked down at the huddled figure something stirred inside. It took him a moment to realise it was pity…pity mixed with something else and coated with dislike. A highly confusing mix to have floating around inside you.

Harry couldn't look back but in the silence he knew what was going to come out of his mouth. He had to say it. The meeting with Ron and Hermione had stirred up so much old guilt and horror that he couldn't stop his thoughts from betraying him and coming out of his mouth. He felt as if there were too many to keep in.

"I have never pretended to like you sir and I'm sure the feeling is mutual but-" Harry paused for a moment, still not looking at the man "-I'm sorry" he finished quietly.

If Snape had expected anything to come out of the boy's mouth it was certainly not that

"What are you talking about Potter?" he asked sharply.

"I couldn't save you. He killed you in front of me before I-"Harry seemed unable to go on. There were no tears but his shoulders shook slightly and he placed his head in his hands.

The world instantly froze for Severus Snape as those words were said in front of him. He didn't know which shocked him more. The fact that he would die in two years' time or the fact that the boy he hated was apologising for it or even cared. The man had no words ready for such a statement so he reverted to usual aversion tactics.

"I would have thought you would be glad of my death Potter" he hissed viciously.

Harry's shoulders instantly stilled and it was his turn to freeze. How could the man be so blasé about his death or accuse Harry of being happy about it?

However if Harry had dared to turn around and look at the man, the viciousness and lack of care that was spewed in the man's words did not match the unusually wide dark eyes that betrayed his true reaction.

"How can you-"Harry started but he was quickly interrupted.

"Stop this at once!"

Snape almost shouted this. He couldn't stand the pity and sorrow that was radiating from the boy…and all over him? It was preposterous to the man and there was nothing he hated more in this world than people feeling sorry for him. It made him feel like a weak child. It was humiliating and he would always do anything to get away from it-even if it took him a step too far.

"Don't be so ridiculous as to weep over me Potter. We both know there is no reason or truth in it. If the tables were reversed do you honestly think I would weep over you?"

As soon as the sentence ended, Green eyes snapped around to stare with such intensity that Snape couldn't stand it. He didn't want to decipher what was in those eyes so he turned, his black robes sliding over the ground and opened the door.

"I suggest you get back inside" he finished coldly and he was gone.

Though he had always known of their mutual hatred, Harry was left outside feeling emptier than he had in a long time, still staring at the door.

Just inside the entrance hall, Snape stopped and put a hand on the stone wall for support. He had gone too far and he knew it.

xxxxx

The meeting with Hermione and Ron is just the beginning because I feel their relationship will have to develop over time. The same can be said for Harry and Snape. I refuse to write a story where all of a sudden Snape turns his character around. Hope you enjoyed and again, I apologise for the ridiculously long wait.


	9. When Draco met Harry

Right lads, I would like to first give many thanks to those of you who have reviewed, favourite and alerted this story, it's lovely to know that people are interested. I don't own Harry Potter. Enjoy.

Xxxx

Chapter 9: When Draco met Harry

Midnight found Draco Malfoy in his room at Malfoy Manor. He didn't dare leave the room in fear of his master. A house elf had brought him food several hours ago but he found himself famished once more, but was it enough to make him leave? There was also another reason he didn't want to leave the confines of his room. Draco was afraid of the inevitable confrontation with his father. He doubted that the man had been told of Draco's mission, but surely his father would notice the change in him. And his mother… he did want to see his mother but he knew wherever she was, his father wasn't far behind. He didn't want to have to deal with the disappointment in Lucius's eyes and the disapproval of the way his son had behaved-like a coward.

Draco didn't know if his father actually loved him or not…the truth was that he did but as time had passed in the future, Lucius' position was lost and his descent into ruin had broken him. He put terrible strain on his son to regain family honour and when Draco couldn't- well, their relationship had worsened. Draco lost respect for his once proud father and though he always loved his mother, she became too quiet to confide anything in.

Draco had spent his time thinking over everything that had happened in his life. He had no idea what to do now. Just wait to fall into ruin as had happened before?

Draco didn't know it but he was about to be aided in his decision.

As his stomach gave another rumble he decided to sneak down to the kitchens and get some food. He didn't want to call their house elf as she was probably tending to the Dark Lords needs or those of any other Death Eaters.

So fully dressed, he slipped out of his room, closing the door behind him silently and made his way along the passage toward the back staircase. The grand staircase was used too often by the more 'important' occupants of the house.

As he passed one of the rooms he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Staying in the shadows he attempted to sneak by, his pale face worried about who was within the room. Just as he made it past, he heard a name which made him stop.

Severus.

Draco paused and listened, wondering if Snape was inside…perhaps he could talk to him later if he was within the manor.

Leaning against the wall with bated breath he listened out for the familiar silky tones but he heard none. He almost jumped when he heard the hissing of the Dark Lord.

"I have come by some valuable information as of late, some of it has revealed rather disturbing truths. Our dear Severus is not to be trusted."

Draco froze and both his curiosity and fear held him there.

"My Lord?"

Draco didn't recognise the voice immediately. He was male, perhaps one of the Death Eaters under a low profile for protection.

"Our potions maker has been working with that old fool for some time it seems" Voldemort's voice was cold and there was no humour or satisfaction. He was furious. "I don't need to remind you of the penalties of such a betrayal. He must be dealt with. If he has also been passing information to Dumbledore, he could be a serious liability. I will summon him soon and deal with him personally."

Draco's blood ran cold. It was happening once more. 'Severus working for Dumbledore?' he thought to himself within the shadows. He seriously doubted that, but it was possible that Snape had betrayed there master. Draco now understood why one would want to leave such service as this.

Steadying himself, he crept away from the door. Making his way to the stairs he paused, leaning on the banister. Sweat coated his pale brow and dampened his blonde hair. What was he to do?

Could he stand back and allow history…or future…to repeat itself? But if he warned Snape that would also put him in the betrayal count…

The young Malfoy took a breath and looked back toward the hall with pale eyes. He could go back to his room and continue in his pathetic existence or he could leave and be cast out of everything he knew.

The answer lay before him, but it took him a minute to find it. Draco's longing to get away from servitude and regain some control over his life, coupled with the warning he had to give to Snape somehow outweighed his longstanding cowardice and in a few seconds, he had fled down the stairs, intent upon leaving this hell forever.

Xxxxx

Professor Dumbledore sat in his office at seven am, the morning after Harry's awakening. He held several letters in his hands and though none of them were surprising he did have a thoughtful expression upon his features.

Each one contained notification from Professor McGonagall, Hagrid and Professor Sprout-who had been away on business for the Order as well as visiting their own homes as they did each summer. Though he had expected them before this, their arrival did complicate things. They were going to return by the end of the week and though they were only three, he knew that others would soon make an appearance, both for Order reports and to begin the scheduling of next year's classes and exams. Though Dumbledore had known he would probably move Harry so as to not force the boy to deal with too many faces, the example set by the disastrous meeting with his friends the night before made the need all the more great. The only problem was where to move him and with whom. It would just be until term started or until harry became ready to face the world once more. The headmaster felt guilty that he had pushed too much upon the boy already and did not want to put further strain on him. The obvious choice was of course the boys relatives, for though this Harry technically had come from the future, the wards had not been broken in this time nor had they reached their max. The boy was fifteen and had not outwardly decided that he had left there forever. He would be untouchable there but Dumbledore knew it might be dangerous for Harry's recovery to sentence him to a place he hated so much and with relatives who would not care for his physical or mental condition. He needed someone who would aid Harry's recovery diligently. The only three in full awareness about Harry were he, Professor Snape and Madame Pomphrey but none were suitable candidates. He himself was too busy with the Order and other…errands, Professor Snape was key to spying on Voldemort and as chief potions maker and Madame Pomphrey would be needed here for any order members in need of healing over the summer, which was generally quite a few. Their investigations were getting more and more dangerous.

Carefully folding the parchment of the letters, one having the notable scrawl that was Hagrid's writing, he placed them in a small drawer within his desk and stood up from his chair. He had a few days to work out the details of Harry's situation although he didn't think the boy would object to being moved away from familiar faces, judging by what had already transpired.

Xxxxx

After a light breakfast and a dose of his dark, thick and disgusting potion, Harry was permitted to go for a small walk. He had managed to get back to the hospital wing the night before without the matron ever knowing he had left. And it seemed that Snape didn't care what he did or happened to him in any way, so Harry presumed he didn't have to worry about him telling tales.

He carefully avoided any corridors or passages that would take him in sight of the lake, sticking to the near corridors of the hospital wing. Harry couldn't even feel relieved that he was allowed out of his medical prison…something had died in him the night before. There was something about hearing first hand that a man forced to protect you hated your guts and didn't care about you in any degree. The feeling was like a punch to the stomach. One he should have seen coming but deep down, though he knew he was hated, since seeing his memories, he had suspected there was some form of…care within Snape, that extended beyond his duty to protect him. Though he knew care wasn't the correct word, Harry couldn't find another one to fit. It was something like that. But he had been proven wrong. There was no 'care' in the potions master's eyes last night and the tone he had spoken his harsh words in left no room for emotion.

Sighing, Harry paused at a window and looked out at the bright sky. He thought about the mess he had made with his friends and hung his head in shame. He was thoroughly miserable without them, but couldn't bear to be near them, it was a horrible feeling.

Dragging his mind away from his friends, Harry considered what would happen to him when the professors began returning. He knew Dumbledore didn't want to make what had happened common knowledge so he guessed he would be moved and Harry knew there was only two options, Grimmauld Place or Privet drive. He wasn't sure which one he despised more. Once upon a time he had called Grimmauld Place a refuge where he and his friends had spent many hard working but happy months planning in the company of Kreacher…now it held too many memories. Only did he get over the memories of Sirius within its walls were they filled with happy times that were crushed with an iron fist.

But Privet Drive…? It had been so long since he had been there and said goodbye to the Dursleys for the last time. Seeing them again would be odd-particularly Dudley. Harry didn't know if his cousin had had his change of heart by now. As for his aunt and uncle, well deep down he was numb toward them but all the memories of his childhood left anger bubbling at the brim of his heart. He had never known of what had become of his family after Voldemort took over. If he had found them they would have been killed but if they had, no doubt Voldemort would have dangled their heads on a piece of string in front of Harry, knowing it would somehow cause him pain.

As if running away from his thoughts, Harry turned and slowly and tiredly made his way to the grand staircase and descended it. As he reached the entrance hall, Harry knew that someone above despised him, as Snape came strolling out from the passage Harry knew led to the dungeons.

Harry stopped dead and funny enough, when Snape's keen eyes spotted him, he did too. Harry had never seen the man react in such an ungraceful way and had the situation been much different, he would have laughed. But he did not.

"What are you doing down here Potter?"

The tone was cold, as always. Harry wasn't sure what he expected of this first meeting after last night but it certainly wasn't this.

"Walking. I'm pretty sure it's allowed" he answered back coolly, but his heart was not in it.

Snape glared for a moment, before turning toward the Great Hall. He couldn't deal with thinking about Potter after last night. He had spent a sleepless night in much confusion and put all the blame on the boy before him. However his black boot had not touched the stone floor when a loud banging could be heard near the wooden doors that were the entrance to the castle.

Both Harry and Snape froze. Harry had never known someone to…knock…on the doors? Apparently Snape hadn't either for Harry saw the man's pale hand settle over a pocket where his wand was concealed. Whoever was at the door was obviously uninvited.

Sweeping over, Snape drew his wand and pulled open the doors magically, so he was in full view of who was on the other side of them.

There in front of him stood a haggard looking Draco Malfoy.

"Draco?"

The boy in question looked up at him, seemingly quite shocked at where he was. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked too thin even for him.

"Severus. You're alive"

Draco said this to convince himself almost and he sagged in the doorway, exhausted from flying all night. Snape noticed the broomstick on the ground next to him and put two and two together.

"Mr Malfoy what are you doing here, your mother and father-"

"I've come to warn you…and to tell you some things. I've made a mistake Severus."

Draco's tone was defeated but he was also insistent.

"We need to talk"

Xxxxx

Harry had stayed in the shadows as the younger Malfoy was led into the castle, so he did not see him. Snape led the blonde boy upstairs and Harry followed quietly until they reached Professor Dumbledore's office. Once the two Slytherins were within, Harry knocked.

"Come in Harry"

The moment Harry stepped within the rounded office, the atmosphere changed. Dumbledore was sat behind his desk, looking at Harry with a raised eyebrow, while Snape and Malfoy were on Harry's side. Both turned at the newcomer and Snape instantly scowled.

"This does not concern you Potter, I suggest you go back to the hospital wing."

But Harry wasn't listening and it seemed that neither was Malfoy. Harry stared at the boy while Malfoy stared back, but the blonde had something in his eyes. He was both shocked and truly horrified to see Harry standing there in front of him and it was in those grey eyes that Harry found the answer to a question he had suspected the moment he saw the boy. Harry had never seen such a haunted expression on fifteen year old Draco's face nor in the depths of his eyes and he knew. He knew as he watched his eyes trace the scar down Harry's eye.

With strength Harry couldn't afford to waste, he threw himself at the younger Malfoy and landed a hard punch directly to the other boy's face which knocked him to the ground.

"POTTER!" roared Snape, grabbing the raging Harry as he fought to get nearer to the fallen boy.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! Harry screamed, desperately trying to get free from Snape's grasp. "You told him everything didn't you!"

"Harry-"interjected Dumbledore softly, but it was no use.

"You watched him torture me every day, wasn't that enough for you Malfoy?"

Harry was livid. All he could see was the boy in front of him and his mind flashed back to each time Malfoy had stood back and watched…he couldn't bear it.

Snape struggled to keep a hold on the teenager, but he was equally shocked. He had rarely seen Potter resort to physical violence.

"What on earth are you going on about Potter?" Snape hissed from behind, grasping the boys wrists tightly.

"Him! He's from my time I know it! And he just spilt everything to the Dark Lord! No wonder I was so paranoid- I knew he must have found out and now I know who told him."

Harry stopped fighting to get free and just stared at Malfoy.

"Tell them." He spat.

Xxxxxx

Harry had since calmed, once Draco had been taken from his sight by Snape and Dumbledore, but once the anger had dissipated, the fear began to set in. He didn't trust Draco one inch after everything that had happened and he was worried what harm the boy could inflict upon those around him if he betrayed them. Harry wasn't so ready to believe the 'change of heart' story that the younger Malfoy had entered the castle with. There was too much he could not forgive.

Dumbledore didn't understand Harry's reaction and if the headmaster didn't get it, there was no reasoning with Snape. However as he sat in a chair next to his bed an idea came to Harry. Though he had been firmly against divulging and seeing such things again, he knew that making the professors understand what a danger Draco was, was more important. Perhaps it was time to show them a few memories…willingly this time. And in an instant he was gone, marching toward Dumbledore's office. He would do anything to avoid the mistakes he had made in the future and one of those mistakes had been misjudging Draco Malfoy.

When there was no one in Dumbledore's office…well, he got no answer, Harry turned and though his stomach lurched painfully at the thought, he made his way to Snape's office.

Xxxxxx

Predictably Snape had not wanted to be in his presence. Nor hear his 'lies' as Snape deemed them.

"Potter, Mr Malfoy has left the Dark Lord's ranks and requires protection. You should not begrudge someone aid when they are running from such a foe…you have plenty of experience no?"

Snape turned from his desk where he had laid several empty potion vials, ready for filling, incidentally for Harry's antidote. Harry ignored the dig and tried once more.

"I know you hate me but I'm right about this. I don't trust him and with good reason!" Harry spat, uncharacteristically forceful.

Snape sneered "That does not surprise me. You really have to get past these school grudges Potter, its ridiculously childish!"

"Fine."

Harry got up from his chair awkwardly and took out his wand. For a moment Snape actually thought the boy had the cheek to try curse him but instead Harry pointed it to his temple and withdrew a familiar strand of silver substance. He grabbed one of the vials from Snape's desk and dropped it within its confines before slamming it on the table and swiftly leaving the room. As the door slammed behind him, Harry closed his eyes. He had just given some of his most dreaded memories to a man he despised.

Inside the office the potions master was staring at the small bottle and glanced back toward the door. He was more than surprised that the boy would give up something like this. He must obviously want to prove something. Judging from Harry's reaction when Snape had accessed his memories last time, the boy was not one for sharing.

Taking the bottle up in his pale fingers he held it up and examined the contents. He could be sure how many memories were contained within. If the man was honest with himself, he was hesitant to view the contents. He didn't know what he was going to see but going on his knowledge of the Dark Lords usual methods and the mental state of the boy who had been his victim- it was nothing good.

Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, Snape decided he had time. Curiosity always seemed to creep up on him when it came to Harry.

Taking off his heavy black robe, Snape strung it over a chair, being left in black trousers and a black buttoned up shirt. He then walked over to a drawer in his desk and pulled out the heavy stone pensieve. He knew he would have to give it back to Dumbledore soon, but this was important.

He poured the small vials contents inside and watched them swirl into a darkness that instantly made Snape realise that what lay before him was worse than he expected.

Right before he dipped his head into the contents he muttered darkly "meddling child".

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Silence fell around Snape's ears as he landed in a torch-lit room. It was large but rather empty, save for a few frames hanging on the walls. The professor couldn't make out their occupants in the shadows. Turning around he looked for Potter knowing he must be here somewhere and his eyes were not disappointed.

Sat in a lone chair in the centre of the room was Potter. Snape didn't want to stand nearer but in order to see exactly what was going on, he needed to move at least two metres.

As he came closer several things caught his eye.

Potter was secured to the chair with black rope. It secured his wrists to each arm, his ankles to each leg and there was even a piece wrapped tightly around his waist. Someone had gone to some effort to make sure there were no mistakes where the boy was concerned. The boy's head hung in front of him, but Snape sensed he was awake. His black hair wasn't matted with blood like Snape had seen in his last memory, nor was his clothing in tatters. There were a few bruises and scrapes and his lip bled persistently, but the boy looked relatively unharmed compared to the state he had come to them in.

'This must be when he was first captured' Snape guessed, glancing around the room. He didn't feel for the boy, though he was in a dangerous situation, Harry was in as good a shape as could be hoped for.

"What are you trying to prove Potter?" Snape asked aloud to the echoing walls, its other occupant obviously not hearing anything.

The potions master was beginning to get impatient when a door opened at the end of the room, golden light streaming in before it snapped closed.

Potter lifted his head at the noise and it was then that something shocked the greasy-haired man. Harry's face was lifeless, his eyes dull and red-had the boy been crying? The new figure walked silently into the room and the torch-light until his face was revealed. It was Draco Malfoy.

Snape was surprised that Lucius' son was let anywhere near the Dark Lords prize but he watched regardless, wondering what was going on.

The second Harry caught sight of the blonde hair, his face turned stony and he was more alert in his posture. The potions master noticed his fists clench under their restraints and when he spoke there was true bitterness in his voice.

"Malfoy."

Severus noticed immediately that something was off about Draco, he didn't reply or sneer, but he kept his distance from the boy as long as possible.

"Look at me!"

Snape almost jumped at the ringing command that came from the bound boy. The younger Malfoy however, did jump. In an obvious attempt to regain control of the situation, Draco turned and stared at the other boy, a sneer on his all too pale face. Something in the eyes didn't match the sneer.

"Shut it Potter. Prisoners don't give orders to Death Eaters."

Snape instantly reeled. So Draco had been made a death eater by this time. He should have expected it but something about it shocked him. He had decided last year that he would try dissuading the young boy from joining those hateful ranks. It seemed he and his future self had failed. 'Or perhaps I was dead too soon to do anything about it?' Snape considered this with no emotion, his looming death didn't bother him as much as it should have.

"Are you happy now? You got to be a Death Eater and follow in daddy's precious footsteps?"

Snape saw the stony expression on the blonde's face when Harry spoke.

Harry continued, his hatred for the boy before him settling his grief and fear for the first time in days "Congratulations Malfoy" he spoke, in a cold whisper "You have not only sold your own life, but you have sentenced me to death as well."

Harry seemed to be shaking at this point, from anger or fear it was unknown. Snape watched him, something unsettled him about the picture in front of him-but what he wasn't sure.

"I saved your life Malfoy-twice! And you handed me over on a silver platter didn't you? You told him where I was…you…"

Harry quietened down and looked away from the other occupant.

Snape had frozen when Harry spoke. He had saved Draco? It made no sense to the professor. However, the boy betraying Harry's location to his enemies unfortunately was believable to him.

"I've never pretended to like you Malfoy, but I thought you were better than that."

Though Harry wasn't looking, this made the other boy freeze where he stood and stare at the boy in the chair, as if he had never heard such a thing in his life. But the second Harry's head moved to look back at him, he closed his mouth and straightened up. "I'm a Malfoy, Potter. I don't know what you were expecting but I don't care about you or the other parts of your little cheer group."

A flash of pain crossed the green eyes "They're dead" he whispered, almost not managing to get the words out.

Snape's mouth set itself into a grim line. He had expected this due to recent behaviour of the boy-who-lived, but to hear it confirmed…

Apparently this was not news to Draco and he instantly looked torn, but he straightened his features. "I told you a long time ago what would happen if you opposed the Dark Lord Potter, the mudblood and Weasel should have-"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Harry shouted, anger pumping in his veins as he thrashed against his bonds "You don't- no one…" Harry's mouth lost its ability to form speech.

Draco had taken an involuntary step back at the shout and he cursed himself for doing so. Isn't this what he had always wanted, Harry Potter finally beaten? Here the boy was, tied up and defeated in front of him and still he made Draco feel like the lesser man. Well no more.

"Don't be so pathetic Potter. They're dead. What else could they have expected from being friends with you. You got what you deserved Potter. You have spent the last seven years foolishly opposing the greatest wizard in the world. Not such a big man now are you?"

Neither Snape nor Harry it seems, could believe the severity and harshness spoken. Malfoy had always been a bully and even cruel at times but this…this was a new low.

Harry seemed to be unable to come up with a reply to this, he seemed shocked out of system and his eyes faded to dull green orbs with each word. But after a minute, his low voice sounded throughout the room.

"Are you angry Malfoy?"

The boy in question laughed coldly "Why would I be angry Potter?"

"Because you just realised that no one would be willing to sacrifice themselves for you like I would have done for my friends…a-and they did for me."

Heavy silence followed this, which only served to prove Harry's theory. Snape watched the struggle going on inside Draco, he almost looked defeated. But a hardness came into his eyes, one that was present in Lucius' eyes often during a torture session, and Draco marched over and slapped Harry harshly across the face. The dark haired boy's head was flung to the side as the stinging sound rang out.

Almost afraid of what Harry was going to say next, Draco conjured a black wad of cloth and stuffed it into Harry's mouth "Well there's no more to die for you now Potter".

A thick mist suddenly descended on the scene. Snape had almost forgotten he was watching memories and he stared hard into Harry's shocked face until it was obscured and a new scene threw itself before him.

He was surprised to see he was back at Hogwarts, on the grounds to be precise. It seemed to be approaching evening and standing by the lake's edge were over fifty Death Eaters. Snape walked between them, eyeing each one with distaste. He noted that he was not among them. As he came to the front of the hooded spectators he was met with the sight of the Dark Lord. Dressed in deep green robes which littered the ground, he had a triumphant gleam in his red eyes.

Snape walked right up beside him, even in a memory, still wary of the distance between them.

"Bring Potter to me" he commanded in his high, cold voice, a smirk tugging at the side of his lipless mouth "I'm sure he will enjoy the view."

No one chuckled at the obvious humour, there was an air of quiet settled over the followers. However Snape heard the silence broken by footsteps and Bellatrix herself approached their master, dragging a bloodied and bruised boy with her by the hair. Snape was impressed to see that Potter struggled even in his damaged state. His hands were tied behind his back and there was a gag around his mouth. Despite the defiance, Snape could tell the boy was terrified.

Voldemort swept over to where the boy was forced to his knees and grabbed Harry by the chin, making him look up to face him.

"Do you want to know what has become of those you yourself led to death Harry? Those whose spirits were so uplifted by the golden boy, their saviour?"

Grabbing a fistful of Harry's hair Voldemort dragged him forward and stood behind him, clutching his jaw to make sure he looked out onto the water and in the instant Harry's eyes met the scene he began to scream. They were muffled but no one could doubt the absolute horror within each one.

Snape looked puzzled until he himself followed the boy's forced gaze. Within an instant, Snape felt like gasping in horror and retching at the same time.

There, floating within the lake in their hundreds were bodies. Every one dead and cold and floating eerily atop the surface, some faces pointed toward the sky, others toward the dank and deep waters. The potions master's dark eyes followed the pattern of people and couldn't help but notice how many bodies were only children- of Hogwarts age.

Eyes uncharacteristically wide, Snape found them back on Harry who had gone limp in the grasp which forced him to look upon such horrors. The boy's eyes were drowned in tears and his screams were now silent.

"Such a pity" Voldemort whispered, almost soothingly into the boy's ears. "Had they sided with me and not you my dear boy, they would be alive and well. Their families would not be at home, hoping with all their might that their 'loved' ones were still breathing, they would be together. See how many lives you have destroyed with your false hope Harry. You drove me to this."

Something stirred within Snape as he saw Harry's body shake with sobs that could not be heard. They boy was crushed. He balled his fists as he heard the poisonous words the monster hissed into the young boy's ears.

"Your friends are amongst them…somewhere."

A muffled cry of 'no' could be heard as Harry was fed this information.

"I admit, perhaps such a burial was…rude of me, but they will serve their uses. I trust you remember the other lake you visited Harry?"

Though Snape had no idea what was going on, suddenly Harry fought against Voldemorts grip and in his fury, knocked the Dark Wizard back a few paces. Instantly Snape knew this was not good. And the situation was not helped by what followed. Harry's gag slipped off in the struggle and he turned to face Voldemort, tears streaming from his eyes "You snake-faced bastard!"

If there had been silence before, now it was a graveyard. Snape watched as Harry recoiled instantly, knowing what damage he had done.

Voldemort was calm…which was never good.

"Watch your tongue Harry. It could get you into trouble. You don't like what I did with your friends then?"

Harry stayed silent, both afraid, infuriated and completely devastated.

"Oh trust me Harry, it's not that bad. Shall I show you?"

The potions professor knew he was in trouble now. Even Snape winced a tiny amount as Voldemort grabbed Harry by the throat and marched into the water itself, the nearest body floating only metres from them. The magnificent green robes flowed all around the monster they enveloped, as he paused in a particular spot.

Standing in water up to the Dark Lord's chest, he turned Harry to face him "I see you value how your friends are treated in death Harry, well you must tell me if my methods are improper".

Before any reply could be made, he grabbed a fistful of the black hair in his long pale fingers and thrust the boys head into the water and held him under unyieldingly.

Snape watched helpless from a bit away, disgusted that someone could do that to a seventeen year old. He knew Harry had to have survived beyond this but fear gripped his insides unconsciously.

…

Harry was down for too long, he was going to drown.

The boy in question was struggling furiously but Voldemort's grip was too strong. He swallowed mass amounts of water as he yelled into the dank green depths. With his arms tied behind his back he could do nothing to prevent his lungs filling with water and just as lights popped in front of his eyes, he was wrenched out and pulled tight against his captor, hair dripping around his face. But he was not allowed draw breath. Voldemort instantly put a cold hand over his mouth and nose and Harry shook. As soon as he was let go he choked up mouthfuls of water, coughing and spluttering, drawing breath harshly and desperately. But he had not had two gulps of life-retaining air when his head was forced under once more.

This time when he was pulled out he expelled more water and heaved violently.

Though enjoying himself, Voldemort was growing tired. But he didn't allow the punishment to stop.

"Draco" he said sharply to the crowd.

The younger Malfoy came forward to the bank and bowed.

"Continue Harry's little lesson."

With a moment's hesitation that only Snape saw, Malfoy headed into the water and took the weak Potter, grabbing a fistful of the ebony hair. Voldemort glided toward the bank and then turned to watch from there. Harry stared back at him, green eyes wide, taking in as much air when he had the chance.

"Put him under" was the cold order and amidst a request to stop from his victim, the younger Malfoy plunged the saviour of the wizarding world's head under the water once more to the enjoyment of the crowd.

Snape couldn't bear to watch any longer, and he turned, deciding he had had enough, just as the scene changed. He was beginning to understand why Harry had so much trouble trusting Draco Malfoy. Though he suspected that this was not the full story.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

xxxxxx


	10. An Impossible Suggestion

A/N: As usual, I must give out apologies for the wait. To make up for the ridiculous amount of time since I updated, I have at least made this a long chapter. I have moved the story toward the next stage that will take place. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, to put it simply.

Xxxxx

Chapter 10: An Impossible Suggestion

Draco Malfoy was uneasy. He had been unnervingly welcomed into the castle by the headmaster he had always disrespected and disliked. Not only did Professor Dumbledore listen to his request for protection, he assured it. Though he had yet to talk to the man he truly wanted to see, he and Snape had said they would meet that night for a discussion. Draco had not yet revealed all, particularly the fact of Voldemort's new mistrust in Snape, those important details were lost the second Harry had jumped at him.

The blonde haired boy currently sat in the hospital wing, having been forced to get a once over check up by Madame Pomphrey, despite having no injuries. But as he sat on the white bed, guilt ate away at his insides. Though he had been surprised at Potter's quick guessing, he had not been shocked that upon realising who he was Harry took a swing at him. He deserved it and more importantly he knew he deserved it.

Draco put his head into his hands as the matron disappeared into her office.

'I'll never convince Potter to be alone in the same room with me' he thought desperately 'let alone ever merit forgiveness.'

He had screwed up big time when it came to the boy-who-lived, but Draco's fear of the Dark Lord and other select followers would have made him take up a tutu and do ballet if he had been ordered to. He wasn't always like this, but the blonde would never forget the first time he had disobeyed direct orders…

Not only was his life threatened, as was his mothers. And to top it off Draco was tortured for his disobedience. Not by Voldemort himself, as he was not so important, but the Dark Lord had watched the show.

However, over time when Draco had tried to fall back on this trauma as an excuse for what he was doing and a justification for himself, his eyes were met with the never-ending torture and sufferings of Harry Potter. If Draco couldn't stand a few rounds of torture…he couldn't imagine what it had been like for Potter. When this thought first came to him, the guilt began to nibble away and he saw the true horrors of his actions. But that had been a long time ago and the revelation didn't stop him following orders like a trained dog, he was too frightened and Draco hated himself for his cowardice.

Even now, he couldn't fully bear to subject himself to Harry's judgement; Draco knew the smirks and snide remarks would form on his face because if he truly embraced his guilt and misdeeds, he would destroy himself. However fully embracing was one thing, but Draco knew action had to be taken before things got any worse and before a man he trusted was killed for no reason once more. Though he was beyond discomfort sitting amongst the 'enemy', he knew he was where he should be.

Xxxxx

It had not been ten minutes after leaving the potions master's office that Harry begun to re-think what he had just done. Did he honestly believe that Snape would understand simply by seeing a few bad memories? Snape had no doubt been to many death eater meetings and seen much worse. Harry worried that he would seem pathetic to the elder man…he also worried about the fact he even cared about this.

Despite his discomfort however, Harry felt better at presenting these things to Snape rather than Professor Dumbledore. Though Snape was a tougher customer, Dumbledore would want to discuss everything, Snape was more straight forward.

Attempting to forget the power he had just given the man who hated him more than anyone…except perhaps Voldemort himself, Harry made his way up the stairs tiredly. He rolled his eyes at a painting full of elderly wizards telling it was past his bed time and continued on in silence. The green eyed boy wondered at why he was so tired. He rubbed his wound subconsciously and winced a bit at the tender spot. He knew he was due a dose of potion soon and the nurse would have his head if he wasn't back in time for it.

Harry was rather uncomfortable at the fact that Snape seemed to have saved his life once more, whether begrudgingly or not. It didn't matter; the fact that the man was willing to do so was enough to make Harry uneasy. He felt as if he owed him so much and yet he couldn't bring himself to even say a proper thank you. Perhaps in time he may gather the courage. Harry told himself that this was not simply procrastination, it was an appropriate choice for the time being…as to why, and he couldn't come up with a plausible enough answer for himself.

Fighting an inner battle all the way back, Harry entered the hospital wing with a deep set frown upon his pale features. However whatever thoughts that he had been fighting instantly dissolved as he came face to face with the other occupant upon the bed.

Time seemed to freeze for the two boys as they found themselves alone and together. The air was so thick you could have suffocated. Harry's green eyes no longer held the uncontrollable anger they had possessed when he had attacked the young Malfoy. They were filled with a shock that hardened to a cold and stony gloss. They grey eyes that stared back at him were unmistakably holding horror and something Harry couldn't make out, for the second the moment was broken, he turned to the right and made his way to his bed.

Now this may have seemed brave and quite controlled considering Harry's history with the other boy, but despite his seemingly cool attitude, Harry's hands were shaking, betraying anger and a distant fear. But Draco didn't notice the pale fingers movement.

Harry sat at his bed, keeping the corner of his eye on the Slytherin. He was too wary to ever let him out of his sight again. Harry was tense and vaguely wondered where the nurse was.

Finding his usual dose of potion on his bedside cabinet, Harry took the small bottle in his pale hands and put it to his lips, draining its contents quickly. Placing the empty container where he had found it, Harry pushed himself up onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, not daring to close his eyes due to his 'companion'. He hadn't exactly clarified to most on the situation between him and Draco, but considering his actions earlier Harry thought the headmaster might have some sense and attempt to keep the boys far apart. 'Snape would' thought Harry. The man's name brought back the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of the boy's stomach, as he remembered what the potions master was doing at that very moment.

The appearance of Madame Pomphrey was a welcome interruption for the green-eyed boy and she froze upon seeing him, before hurrying over, taking a worried glance back at the blonde boy sitting on the bed.

"Harry" she said quietly "Mr Malfoy and you will not have to be in each other's presence for long, I simply have to run a check up on him and he will be moved to Professor Snape's quarters."

Harry nodded, the nurse obviously having been informed of the earlier incident, however Harry was glad that he wouldn't have to spend the entire night awake… ashamedly fearing an attack from his once school nemesis.

"The headmaster also asked me to inform you that Mr Weasley and Ms Granger have returned home for the time being until… well-" she seemed unable to continue and instead gave an uncharacteristic pat on his hand and a small smile before turning to her other patient.

Harry watched with narrowed eyes as the young Malfoy tensed under the medi-witch's ministrations and checks. He unhappily swallowed a blue potion under her watch and she muttered something to him before bustling off to her office once more.

It didn't escape Harry's notice how thin and sickly the other boy looked but Harry easily found that he didn't give a damn. The blonde noticed he was being stared at and he turned his head to look towards the dark haired boy.

The scowl came all too easy to Draco's face and before he knew it himself he had shot venomous words across the ward "What are you looking at Potter?"

Though he instantly regretted his tone, Draco couldn't help but glean some satisfaction for the nostalgia and familiarity the situation brought. Long before any involvement with the Dark Lord, this was how it had been, simple enmity and a life he knew well and was his own.

Now however, things were very different. There were terrible things to atone for, things to plead for, but Draco couldn't do it to himself, so he played the part of his character he remembered most fondly, staring down the other boy.

"A coward."

Instantly there was a crack in the blonde's character and face. The mist lifted and reality crashed down upon him. He had no reply, which earned a raised eyebrow from Harry. Desiring nothing more than to get rid of the stare of those green eyes, Draco looked away and muttered darkly "We can't all be the brave Harry Potter." There was sarcasm in his tone, but the words also held some truth.

"First of all I am not brave Malfoy" said Harry heatedly, anger flaring.

Draco looked up at these words, finding no pride in the green orbs.

"He broke me…" Harry whispered angrily "you know he did. However that didn't cause me to accept the deaths of those around me. You could have fought Malfoy."

"You mean died" the other hissed on reaction. However Harry's reply was not one he was expecting.

"Better death than servitude and pain."

The conversation was over as the nurse returned, neither boy willing to look at the other, but both for very different reasons.

Xxxxx

It did not escape Snape's notice that these memories were only related to Draco Malfoy. Not even the cold blooded potions master could suppress the tightening knot in his stomach at the thought of what might have transpired when the Dark Lord had Potter alone and to himself.

The misted memory began to clear in front of his obsidian eyes as a new scene unfolded. However immediate darkness overtook his surroundings. A familiar darkness and an eerily recognisable air of damp. It took a moment for Snape to recognise the dank room he had glimpsed when he invaded the boys memories previously. However he found no limp figure hanging in chains on the wall. The space seemed empty, however since this was Harry's memory, that wasn't possible. Narrowed eyes scanned the deep shadows in each corner looking for signs of life.

However his search was pulled to a halt when the still very swollen wooden door disturbed by the sound of a bolt being undone and slowly the mass of wood was pushed open. There was a lot of effort on the part of the person opening the entrance. It groaned and creaked as it swung inward and there was a huffing sound from the shrouded figure until the gap was wide enough to slip through.

Snape waited, tension creeping into his limbs once more, as it had at the lake seen. He knew who the figure must be but he still waited, perhaps hoping it wasn't who he guessed.

However Snape's suspicions were confirmed when a head of blonde hair appeared and the pale boy he was so familiar with slipped inside, a bracket on the wall flaring to life as he did so, showering the right hand side of the small room in firelight, but leaving the left under its ominous blanket of darkness.

Malfoy looked drawn and uneasy, but his eyes never strayed around him. His mind was on his task and the potions master noticed he carried a goblet in his slightly shaking grasp.

The blonde boy seemed to not want to enter more than he had and he set the goblet onto the floor rather quickly, eyes constantly darting back to the door.

Snape didn't understand. What was the boy so afraid of?

Suddenly Draco spoke to the cold room.

"The Dark Lord ordered you to drink that" Draco swallowed hard in between his sentences "It's a general healing potion."

Snape's gaze narrowed.

There was no answer, only silence and the odd dripping of water from a corner.

"Don't make this harder on yourself Potter. The Dark Lord won't be pleased if you die of y-your injuries." The silent 'yet' echoed loudly in the heads of each occupant.

The young Malfoy seemed to attempt to keep his voice under his control, but his eyes displayed fear, something Snape didn't miss.

The blonde licked his dry lips and picked up the goblet once more, stepping closer to the shadows and placing it much nearer to the wall.

Snape's started a little as the cup was pulled into the shadows. He hadn't heard nor seen anyone sitting there. However no sooner had the cup been obscured than it flew out, smashing against the half open door, its contents dripping down towards the ground slowly. It had been a weak throw but Malfoy had jumped at the shattering noise and took a step back toward the exit. But he didn't get far.

Snape's stomach tightened as an immensely scratched and bloodied hand shot out and grasped at the blonde's ankle.

Malfoy tumbled back in horror, just as a choked cough sounded, finally giving proof that there was another within the confines of the cell.

Snape stepped forward hesitantly, peering down, trying to glimpse at the owner of the repulsive hand. He wasn't disappointed.

Slowly and shakily, another bloodied palm and set of fingers followed, its skin raw and cracked, with fissures over the knuckles and red rings around the wrist. The nails scraped the ground as the fingers pulled their owner from the darkness, legs dragging behind.

Though Snape would never admit to being truly horrified at anything, at this moment something akin to horror swallowed him whole, for after the hands the first thing that came to his notice were bloodshot, shadowed and dead green eyes. Those damn green eyes.

A breath caught in his throat as the emerald orbs appeared in the darkness, followed by what could only be described as a bloody mass of limbs. It was as if someone had spilled red ink over every inch of skin visible, the torn clothing doing nothing to hide the angry marks. And with those eyes, unguarded by glasses and made luminescent in the dark despite their dead pupils, Snape could not escape the thought that he was looking at Lily Potter's son…and her son had been tortured relentlessly.

However despite his destroyed body, the sight did not prepare Snape… or Malfoy it seems, for the words that followed.

"Malfoy" Harry's voice was raspy and dry, as if it hadn't been used in a long time "Please…let me die… o-on my own terms, not when… when he d-decides."

In the same moment that the blonde stumbled back at those words, Snape reached an arm out to the wall, eyes wide in shock and horror, but found there was nothing there as the scene faded around him, but not before a quiet, horrified and almost remorseful reply followed from the young Death Eaters lips.

"I can't."

Mist clouded his vision right before Snape landed back in the sanctity of his office. His face was expressionless…but he leant on his desk for support.

Xxxxx

It had taken the potions professor over twenty minutes to steady himself. He didn't want to consider that the arrogant, proud and vile son of James Potter had asked for death…or suicide.

A shiver passed over the dark-haired man's form but he shrugged it off, pointing his wand at the fireplace to enlarge the heat, blaming the chill on the room's temperature.

What should he do now? Discuss all he had seen with the headmaster? Despite Snape's usual tendency to have a discussion with the elderly wizard about particularly important details, something stopped him this time.

Running a pale hand over his face, the man glared at his desk accusingly. He had no idea how to process this information, or what to do concerning it. Holding back an impatient sigh, he was just about to exit the room when a female voice sounded from behind him. His face tightened as he turned, finding Madame Pomphrey just stepping out of the grate.

"Sorry to bother you Severus" she said distractedly, glancing behind her "but Mr Malfoy has had a full assessment and has been given the required potions, so I'd say you could collect him."

Snape's eyes narrowed, knowing something was being left unsaid.

Pomphrey saw the accusatory look and she sighed "Mr Potter is obviously uncomfortable with the boy's presence and I would say the discomfort goes both ways. I believe it would be wise to keep them apart for now."

A nod met her words "Very well" muttered the potions professor, following her through the fire.

As he strode from her office into the ward, the scene struck him. At either ends of the room lay two boys. One was dark haired, the other blonde, opposites in every way… except one. As Snape beheld the two students he realised that the fear he felt was not one sided. Each boy feared the other.

Xxxxx

Harry hadn't been sure of the reaction he was expecting from his potions professor; however he couldn't help but be disappointed that the man had not cared one single bit about what he had seen. The black haired man had swept into the hospital wing, beckoned the blonde occupant toward him and left without a word. That had been an hour ago and now, lying in silence, Harry realised that he had been a fool to think he could rouse any understanding from Snape. He had just needed enough to make someone comprehend the danger Malfoy posed to everyone around him however even that much had been denied.

Almost to distract himself, Harry looked down to his chest and pulled the bandage there to the side slightly, examining the old wound. The blackened skin had receded and had a pink tint around its edge. He took that to be a good sign. He also raised a palm and ran his hand down the scar at the side of his face. That had also improved with time, fading a little. Something did nag at Harry about his specific wounds. They seemed to be the only ones that remained in a serious condition. Yes he knew it was due to the poison on the knife, but he was surprised that the mountain of injuries he had acquired had not left more scarring or complications. 'It must be due to all those healing and various other potions they forced down my throat' he thought tiredly. They had always had their fun, Voldemort in particular stretching it out until near death-he was the only one allowed to bring it to that optimum level. But he was never allowed to completely succumb to death. The monster that was the dark Lord had often said that 'the time wasn't quite right'. Harry presumed that the time had come when he had been stabbed through the heart…however somehow he escaped death again.

Harry thought back to his fifteen year old self…well, his original fifteen year old self. That age had been torture for him after Sirius had died. It seemed like so long ago to him, yet for everyone else, it was mere weeks behind. The wound that Sirius had left in his heart had never fully healed, however Harry knew greater pain now than he had back then. He had to watch everyone he loved fall…thousands of gaping holes in his heart, which were only driven wider by Voldemort's…administrations on his tormented body.

Harry had no idea what was going to happen now. He knew that Dumbledore's long absences from the castle must have something significant behind them, but Harry didn't see him often enough to ask. In some ways he was still avoiding the headmaster. He would never understand all that had happened.

Xxxxx

Days flittered away until Harry found himself nearing his sixteenth birthday. He had kept his head down and remained quiet lately, never seeing anyone but Madame Pomphrey, who declared his wound was looking encouraging now. Some strength returned to him and Harry honestly felt physically better than he had. He was still a little weak and often required a small sleep during the day to keep up his strength. His appetite was still atrocious however and he was continually fed nutrition potions.

Nothing of consequence had occurred in the last while, except for one small discussion with the headmaster. Though Harry did not want to be left alone with the old man to talk, he knew he couldn't put off one particular thing much longer. So he had ventured to the intricate office and sat opposite the headmaster for nearly forty minutes. He had not explained about his capture, there wasn't a way he could approach that yet, however he did explain the events which had happened around this time in his past, and particularly relating to the cursed ring Dumbledore would happen upon. The man listened in silence, with no twinkle in his blue eyes, but he nodded often and if he had been shocked in learning that he would have had a fatal encounter with a cursed ring, he didn't show it.

Harry had been more at ease after he relayed that information. At least Dumbledore would now be protected for a while longer and wouldn't be as foolhardy with the object as he had been in Harry's time.

Little did Harry know the effect his information had on Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster had always known his weakness and it did not surprise him that he would have dived at a chance to summon Arianna and his parents back to his side. As he listened to the green-eyed boy's words, his shame grew and uncharacteristically so did his unease. Many saw Dumbledore as invincible. He had always been a symbol for the light against the dark, but he knew his own strength. Some things he could not stop and there was always a deep rooted fear within him that his past would repeat itself…and he would kill those he cared most for. Harry never could have known that these thoughts crossed the elderly man's thoughts as he exited the office that day. And unfortunately, these fears were not unfounded.

Exactly three days after his discussion with the headmaster, Harry found himself in the library. It was completely deserted; even Madam Pince was absent, being on her holidays along with the other professors. Dumbledore had mentioned that professor McGonagall and several others were due to return in two days' time, however he had not said anything about moving Harry to another location, despite wanting the boy's story to be kept secret. Though Harry was pleased to not have to venture to Privet drive or Grimmauld place, he wasn't sure about facing the professors…or more importantly Hagrid. 'Another friend I lost' Harry told himself, slipping a book back onto the shelf.

He had thought to occupy his mind with reading material however he couldn't find anything of interest, not even in the defence section. He had not mentioned it to anyone but Harry's confidence in defence had slipped. It was understandable. After being captured and held for so long against your will, with no means of escape, confidence in your abilities does tend to fade.

He had considered a book on Quidditch, but any thought for the game had been lost in his nightmares. The joys of playing such a game seemed now as if they were a part of someone else's life. In fact many of memories seemed as if they belonged to someone else.

Angrily slamming 'One Thousand every-Day Curses' onto a shelf, at an impact that would have made the librarian shriek, Harry considered all that his captor had taken from him. He wasn't himself anymore. He had his life, his friends, his freedom, his school…everything had been taken from him! And even now, when he was given a second chance with it all, he couldn't bear to be around his friends due to the memories, pain and guilt of losing them. Even now Voldemort continued to take things from him and he was powerless to stop it.

Shaking in anger and something he couldn't quite place, Harry left the library and hurried to the corridors and the nearest window he could find. Leaning his forehead against the cool glass he peered out into the darkening grounds. It must have been nearing nine o clock, meaning his was due for another potion dose. His eyes swept over the shadows cast by the castle. Nothing was moving.

Sighing he used the sleeve of his black baggy top to wipe the condensation off of his face from the window and turned in the direction of the school ward. As he walked he noticed how quiet everything seemed. Due to the lack of inhabitants it was always calm, but tonight there was silence in the air. No rain pattered against the window, no spiders scuttled over the ground and none of the portraits seemed to be interested in conversation.

The silence followed him into the hospital wing. The torches flickered feebly as Harry made his way over to his bed. But as he neared the space he had inhabited for weeks, something made him stop in his tracks and his blood froze in his veins.

There was blood on the floor. Drops of it littered the edge of his bed.

His green eyes widened and he forced himself to take a step further, following the tiny drops like a breadcrumb trail around the bed.

As he came around to the other side his heart stopped and Harry was on the floor in less than a second.

"Madame Pomphrey!" he shouted, desperation and fear tumbling from his lips with the words.

The matron was sprawled out on the ground, covered in blood.

Harry's hands shook as he turned her over. "No no no…"

Something in his brain had jammed. It was just too familiar. The blood, the body, the pain, the panic…the fear.

Harry traced the mass of blood to a gaping wound in her back that had torn through the skin and clothing. He pressed his hand to the spot, trying to stem the blood flow, his other hand flying to where her heart lay. Praying with all his being that she was still alive, Harry let out a shaky breath as he felt a very faint beat.

His head flew to look at his trunk where his wand was concealed, but he knew he couldn't reverse this kind of damage, he had never learned healing spells.

With both his hands now drenched in blood, Harry let out gasps of panic, his eyes flying around the room. He knew the kind woman would die if he didn't do something, so in a split second decision, Harry raced into the woman's office where he knew she kept her supplies. His injury twinged at the fast pace but he couldn't have cared. His bloodied hands flew from cabinet to cabinet, looking for anything that could help when he saw it.

A rush of memories came back to him as he spotted the small bottle labelled 'Essence of Dittany' at the back of an old wooden cupboard. He grabbed it quickly, not caring for the few bottles that fell to the ground and smashed due to his terror.

He threw himself down at the woman's side once more and with unsteady hands pulled the stopper out of the bottle and administered three drops to the wound.

Holding his breath, for a second Harry didn't think it worked. The world was still and so was the nurse. However just as the hope was about to abandon him, he saw the skin moving, stitching itself back.

Sitting on the floor, his hands and wrists and most of his top covered in blood, Harry's pale face was frozen, watching and waiting. His legs were shaking slightly, but he watched relentlessly.

Thoughts flew through his mind now that he had a second to think. Who did this? Where is Dumbledore? What is going on?

The questions flew from his mind as a quiet voice broke the silence "D-death eaters….get Severus". Pomphrey was barely conscious but the boy heard the words well enough and the fear gripped him. How could there be death eaters here...?

"Madame Pomphrey?"

She didn't look at him, it was clear she had no idea who she was talking to.

"Severus" she insisted again and Harry nodded rapidly.

"I'll-I'll get him, don't worry Madame Pomphrey."

There was nothing to do but go for help. He quickly grabbed the pillow from his bed and put it under the now sleeping woman's head and threw a blanket over her. He didn't have the strength nor time to lift her to a bed. Ripping open his trunk he grasped his wand and flew from the room down the corridor toward the headmaster's office. It made no sense to Harry that Death Eaters could have gotten in. It wasn't possible. The nurse must have been mistaken. He told himself to ease his fear, however the nasty voice in the back of his head couldn't help but then ask 'Who attacked her, if it wasn't Death Eaters?'

As he ran, an answer flew to his mind. Malfoy.

Anger gripped him as he thought of this likelihood. However was it that likely? Malfoy was under the watch of Snape…

With his confusion and fear heightening Harry came to a halt at the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office and almost shouted the password from a few days ago "Liquorice wand!"

Thanking his luck, the gargoyle moved and Harry raced up the steps and hammered on the office door. But it was locked.

It was as if someone upended a bucket of ice-water on Harry when he realised. Dumbledore was away that night.

He paused and turned slowly, his breath leaving him in short gasps as he stared at the stairs.

'Calm down' he told himself 'This is nothing like the last time…it's probably a big misunderstanding'

"I'll find Snape" Harry mumbled, descending the stairs "And if I can't find him I'll owl Dumbledore…"

Feeling slightly better with a plan, Harry took off toward main staircases. Snape was nearly always in the Dungeons.

With each stair, Harry's chest twisted with pain. He hadn't taken any potions in a few hours and he was starting to feel it. But glancing down he saw that it hadn't opened up, so that was good.

The dousing of cold air that hit his skin told him he had entered the dungeons and Harry made his way to Snape's office, albeit noticeably slower now. Gasping for breath due to his exertion he finally came to a stop. Despite his fear of Snape, Harry's sense of unease and the fact that this was a complete emergency allowed him to forget his fear of Snape and enter the room uninvited. But as soon as he did…he wished he hadn't.

The first sight that greeted him was Snape's face. And it was paler than Harry had ever seen it. The dark eyes were wide with shock for a moment as he stared at the newcomer from across the room.

Snape's face wasn't the only thing that froze in the room upon Harry's arrival, everything did.

Harry's green eyes were met with a scene that he hoped was just a nightmare. Facing Snape on the left side of the room with a wand pointed toward the unarmed potions master was the Death Eater Macnair and to the side were Avery and Crabbe Senior. On the right stood Dolohov and with blood stained grinning teeth, was Fenrir Greyback. Greyback had a very familiar blonde in his clutches. Malfoy was still in his grasp, as Greyback's filthy nails were clutched around his throat, almost daring to rip the tender flesh there, while the other held the boys two arms behind him.

The whole room seemed to turn toward Harry and most of the reactions were instant sadistic grins. Harry's shock and fear held his body still. Memories and flashbacks rushed to him as he saw each person. They had all witnessed various sessions of Harry's torture, they had all killed his friends and fellow students, and they had all taunted him. Seeing them was as if he was being told he was going back there.

Before there was even a moment to raise his wand, Harry heard a delighted whisper beside his right ear of "expelliarmus" and his wand deserted him. Before he could turn his head to the side to see the caster, Harry felt a wand tip pressed into his side.

As the person neared, he realised they had been standing in the shadows and he hadn't noticed them. But feeling the tickle of hair against his cheek and an almost disbelieving cackle, he knew who it was.

"Didn't anyone tell you it's bad manners to not knock?" came the high pitched voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

He felt her nails pierce his scalp as she grabbed a fistful of his ebony hair and pulled him back into her, yanking his head back as far as it would go. Harry hissed in pain but quietened as she moved the wand tip up to his throat.

Though he couldn't look at them Harry heard the other Death Eaters laugh.

"How convenient a captive you are Potter" came the taunting voice of Dolohov "We couldn't find you earlier and now here you walk right to us so we can round you up with the rest of our catch. I'm afraid we took our frustration of not finding you out on that poor fat nurse of yours. Although judging by your bloodied state I'd guess you found her body."

"You bastard" Harry hissed, wincing as his hair was tugged even harder.

"Now now Potter, quieten down. You can scream and shout all you want when the Dark Lord deals with you."

Fear trickled down Harry's back at those words and he fell silent, terrified and angry at how easily he had been caught.

"Now back to business" muttered the sneering voice of Macnair, his wand still pointing at the potions master.

"You're cornered Snape. You and the boy have to pay for your betrayal. The Dark Lord doesn't take to kind to traitors and deserters." He glanced quickly to the shaking blonde and then laughed "And of course, Potter's fate needs no explanation."

"You always did like to hear yourself talk Macnair" Snape sneered, attempting to hide the utter panic that was building within him "Particularly when it's against an unarmed opponent."

Macnair's face soured instantly but he didn't rise to the bait as Snape had hoped.

"Unless you want two dead boys on your office floor I suggest you come willingly. Or we could just kill you where you stand."

Though never one to defy orders nor miss out on the action, Bellatrix's lips curled behind her captive and she licked her lips. She would not take the blame for Snape's death and she so longed to see it, so she stayed silent and let Macnair have his way. It was his own life he was risking

Snape was silent, his eyes darting between the young Malfoy and Harry.

"Yes, I think the Dark Lord might forgive us for murdering a traitor. He released his subjects from Azkaban after the mistake at the Ministry, so I see no reason why he couldn't see this was necessary."

The potions master's eyes followed Macnair's wand as he lowered it to aim where the man's heart lay. And it was then that everyone in the room knew that Macnair was just crazy enough to go against orders and do it. Malfoy began to struggle, which left bloody incisions like a necklace around his throat.

Bellatrix pushed Harry's face down in order to watch what was about to happen and perhaps that was what did it. Perhaps it was the desperation of not wanting to watch any more deaths, perhaps it was the years of guilt or was it the way Snape took an uncharacteristic step backward, similarly to the way he had when Harry had watched him die previously…but something in Harry snapped and even though he was completely unarmed, he used a move Dudley had constantly practiced on him as a child and pulled his elbow forward, before driving it backward with as much force as possible straight into Bellatrix' stomach. Whatever resistance she had been expecting, it wasn't muggle and she stumbled back gasping, her wand falling from Harry's throat just as Macnair shouted "Avada-"

"No!"

"-Kedavra!"

With a clumsy but forceful run, Harry drove himself straight into Macnair, sending the man into the wall with a crack and Harry to the ground as the green spell lit up the room, which was thrown off by Macnair's movement and hit the wooden desk, bursting into flame.

Snape was not one to stand by idly. He swooped down and grabbed Macnair's fallen wand and fired a stunner at Greyback, sending the werewolf down hard and effectively releasing the blonde. This was followed by two more stunners at Dolohov and Crabbe, Crabbe being sent down effectively, but Dolohov countered and advanced on Snape.

Before the potions master could throw another spell, Avery sent a burst of purple light toward him and Snape was forced to throw up a powerful shield which just about deflected it, but knocked him back a few paces.

Harry meanwhile dived on the nearest wand he saw, belonging to the unconscious Crabbe however as he turned he was met with Bellatrix's deranged grin and her wand pointing straight at him. He knew he wouldn't make it on time but he didn't expect her to have to take on a second opponent as a stunner flew toward her. Harry turned just in time to see Malfoy's pale face holding Harry's own wand. He had sent the stunner, but it had been weak due to the foreign hand clutching the wand.

Now Bellatrix's smile faded and she looked upon her nephew with disgust in her eyes. As she raised her wand, Malfoy faltered but Harry reacted instinctively.

"Sectumsempra!" he shouted, every bit of his hate sent with the curse. Perhaps it was the shock that Harry dared use a dark spell, but Bellatrix failed to fully block the onslaught, her last minute shield only protecting her from the full force of the curse. While she did not fall, blood could be seen seeping out in various places from under her clothing and she looked at it with shock, before turning her hardened eyes on Harry. There was no trace of playfulness or enjoyment, only intent and within two seconds she sent Harry flying back toward the flaming desk, which he slammed into, feeling the flames on his arms before rolling off and falling hard onto the floor.

Dolohov and Avery meanwhile advanced on Snape firing multitudes of curses which he countered artfully, while Bellatrix set her sights on her nephew once more. Harry pulled himself off the ground, hands desperately searching for a wand, any wand. Though the spells used with another's un-won wand were weaker, it was better than no wand and Harry had no idea where his had flown to when he was disarmed.

But before he could find aid, he saw Snape slam into the wall with the force of one of the offensive spells and Malfoy was thrown a few feet only to smack onto the stone floor.

Everything stopped for a second as Bellatrix giggled, delighted with the outcome but just as she raised her wand the door to the office flew open and she was disarmed from behind, before ropes flew from the air and wrapped themselves around her and she fell. Dolohov and Avery turned seeing the fall of the woman, but they were not ready for the attack that met them almost instantly and they flew back into the wall where roped sprang, holding them fast.

Harry struggled to stand, his chest aching due to the force of his fall but when he managed it, his eyes met those of a furious and power-radiating Dumbledore standing in the doorway.

xxxxx

Four hours later found Severus Snape alone with the headmaster in his office.

"You must understand the severity of the situation Severus?" Dumbledore asked tiredly "Voldemort's servants should never have been able to breach the castle grounds, let alone without raising the alert."

"I too had thought it impossible Albus" Snape said quietly "According to Bellatrix they used the assistance of a house-elf to enter. Elf magic is not restricted to the same rules as that of wizards, though how they forced the elf to do it we cannot be sure. Bellatrix seemed disgusted by the idea of using such a lowly creature, it was however, rather effective"

"Yes" agreed Dumbledore, looking stern "It seems Tom is learning from his mistakes. The Malfoy boy had confessed to you that he relayed future events to Voldemort?"

Snape nodded.

"Draco told us Tom discovered you were working for the Order, but I didn't think he would make an attack on you, Harry and the boy here at the castle."

Snape's eyes narrowed, wondering where this line of conversation was going.

"You have to understand Severus, I have been away a lot recently and will continue to do so as it is highly important. But though I knew-at the risk of sounding conceited-that Hogwarts would be at more of a threat during my absence, I never knew it would come to this…not so soon in any case."

Strolling around his desk, dressed in midnight blue robes, Dumbledore sat in silence for a moment before turning his gaze on the dark haired man once more.

"You, Harry and Mr Malfoy are now the most wanted wizards in Voldemort's eyes. Tom does not take kindly to betrayal, any more than he does to opposition. I fear the attempts made to capture the three of you will steadily increase and grow more fervent."

"What are you trying to suggest Albus?" Snape asked suspiciously. Though he knew the word to be true, he was always aware at the tone the headmaster was using.

"I fear I cannot protect you as well as I should be able to. I was intending to send Harry home anyway, to avoid the staff that will begin to arrive and the questions. Secrets are imperative at this point where he is concerned. And after tonight, I am even more eager to do so. The protection there is solid and does not waver with the comings and goings of a headmaster. Voldemort cannot touch him there and Harry needs to return for a time regardless."

Snape nodded his approval at this plan.

"But I also fear for Mr Malfoy. The boy is in great danger now and with the staff and the growth of the people within the castle, we cannot watch him nor protect him at the level we offered to provide."

"Although I agree headmaster, where do you suggest the boy go? His family are lost to him now. Perhaps the old headquarters-"

Dumbledore cut Snape off "Grimmauld place is currently uninhabitable. With the death of Sirius, the stability of the place is called into question. It may now welcome those it once kept out. It should pass to Harry, but there is always the possibility that Bellatrix could have a claim worth pursuing. Though we sent her to Azkaban for the second time this summer, I fear, like the last time, her stay will not be of a long duration. She could override Sirius' will and without warning there place could be storming with Death Eaters."

Though he could see the elderly man's point, Snape did not see an alternative.

"Headmaster, if the boy can't stay here nor Grimmauld place, where is he expected to go?"

"Young Draco will be safest at Privet drive."

There was a pause in the air.

"You can't seriously mean Potter's home?" Snape asked sharply.

"I fear to say it Severus, but there is nowhere that is currently as safe as that house. You cannot take being the top three on Voldemort's list lightly. He will do everything in his power to recover the three of you. Along with myself, you all are in the most danger. After tonight, there is certainly no doubt of his intentions."

"Perhaps Potter's home is the safest area from the Dark Lord, but are you forgetting the anger and fear between the two boys Albus? And I cannot see Draco adjusting to a muggle household."

"He must adjust" Dumbledore said seriously "and though Harry's mistrust in the boy is not likely to be unfounded, they must realise that they are now on the same side."

Snape stood from his chair and paced the room for a moment "While I am sure that Draco regrets his past, we cannot underestimate the Dark Lord's ability to turn him with fear. If he did so, even from afar, you will have placed a servant-even a reluctant one- of the Dark Lord, right into Potter's home."

While he spoke, Snape saw the memories Harry had given him in his mind and unease settled on his stomach.

"I cannot argue against your reasoning Severus, however Draco is still a child and he seeks our protection. We will give him that while watching him carefully."

"We cannot watch him while he is at Potters house Albus"

"We cannot…however, you can."

Silence filled the office as Snape's cold face turned toward Dumbledore's.

"Excuse me?"

"I know you will object Severus" Dumbledore began softly "but this way you can watch them both while protecting yourself."

Snape seethed in fury "I am not a child Albus" he spat.

"No you are not, but this is no longer the same situation. You have placed yourself in danger countless times spying for our side, however you have never been in the same danger you are now. Voldemort will not stand for betrayal, he despises disobedience above all because he has always been able to control those around him. Harry had defied him many times and thus rooted insatiable anger within Voldemort. He seeks…he needs to make the boy suffer, to bow down to his control through pain and most of it is so he can prove to himself that none can defy nor resist him. You are now sewn into his mind amongst those feelings Severus."

Snape remained quiet but after nearly a full minute he spoke "Though I understand the precarious situation I am in, once again I will point out to you that I am not a child. I will not hide while-"

"You will not be hiding if that is your fear, you will be protecting. Both yourself, young Draco and the boy you swore to protect almost sixteen years ago."

Snape's eyes flashed at the reminder of Lily's death "I have protected Potter over and over again! But I will not babysit him!"

Dumbledore remained calm despite the anger in front of him. "Harry has never needed a babysitter."

Snape turned, about to retort but Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him, only incensing the potions master further. But his words made Snape quieten.

"Don't make me bury you before your time Severus."

xxxxxx


	11. A Less Impossible Suggestion

I have no words for what a git I have been. If there are even any people left willing to read this story after so long an absence, this is for you. I wrote this sloppily perhaps, but I had to update, now or never.

Xxxxx

Chapter 11: A Less Impossible Suggestion

Xxxxx

The potion's master swept down the hall, looking as dramatic as ever with his cloak sweeping behind him, gathering the dust lining the corridor floors. But the murderous expression on his face did not allow for any humour to be made of the sight. He had momentarily escaped Dumbledore's office after being subjected one of the most humiliating pleas he had ever witnessed.

Snape had always had the highest respect for the headmaster, but his attempts to lock him into confinement for his own 'safety' were going too far. 'Look where it got Black' he thought viciously, turning a corner and holding back a snarl. Snape had listened to the headmaster's speech about protection for as long as he could bear it before flat out refusing any journey to Potter's home.

Despite his protests, he did agree that the two boys were in need of a secure place to stay. They were a danger to themselves, never-mind external threats. Hogwarts would soon see the return of the professors and various visitors from the ministry it had to bear over the holidays. Coupled with the movement of Madame Pomphrey to St Mungo's the castle was becoming less favourable with each passing moment.

Dumbledore had given slightly on his original suggestion of Privet Drive, after Snape pointed out the idiocy of that proposal. Honestly, the man got ridiculous ideas into his head. Technically it was the perfect safe-house, the protection there at its highest, but otherwise it was completely unsuitable. Snape would have no dealings with Harry's muggle relatives, not to mention the size of the house itself. The headmaster hadn't been convinced up to that point, still seeing the positives outweighing the negatives but that hadn't lasted too much longer when Snape divulged one or two memories Harry had given him. Though he didn't show the memories to the headmaster, he explained the issues surrounding Draco Malfoy. Though none liked to assume it of the boy, the fact that he could turn back to the other side, whether out of fear, desperation or anything, was a possibility that had to be considered. Placing him within Potter's home was not the most ideal of suggestions in this case. Dumbledore had grown grave with this new information, pacing behind his desk multiple times before saying he would consider the situation.

'Consider the situation' Snape sneered within the confines of his mind, 'Albus refuses to admit his idea would be a mistake.'

Xxxxx

Harry paced the infirmary, his skin covered with salve under his sleeves where they had come into contact with flame and other bumps and bruises had been looked at. Dumbledore had called a temporary healer from St Mungo's as Madame Pomphrey was now a patient herself. She was going to be fine but she had lost a lot of blood and would need some time to recover.

Harry couldn't admit just how shaken he was. That attack had come much quicker than expected. Voldemort was clearly not as patient this time or else he was considering a faster strategy given his new found knowledge of his future mistakes.

Malfoy was seated on the bed at the end of the wing, pale but relatively unharmed. He had not spoken a word to Harry nor Harry to him. The boy-who-lived didn't know what to say to someone you loathed for plenty of logical reasons, but that same someone had just saved your life. Harry couldn't even hazard a guess as to what the other boy was thinking. Everything was so confusing. However some things could not be put on hold. He grabbed his usual dose of potion, downing it in one and immediately feeling the relief in his chest. The black was almost gone, only a portion remained at the very centre of the wound.

"Potter."

The harsh voice made Harry jump violently and he turned to see Snape entering the ward, looking mutinous. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Malfoy sat up a little straighter.

"I need to speak with you" snapped Snape, looking as if he was restraining himself from grabbing Harry as he gestured to the matron's office.

Frowning Harry hesitantly followed the man inside, out of the young Malfoy's earshot before the door snapped shut, leaving Harry feeling like a rat trapped in a corner.

Snape was gripping Pomphrey's desk hard, gritting his teeth noticeably until he spoke.

"Normally I would not discuss such things with you Potter, but since the Headmaster has clearly lost his mind, it is an unfortunate necessity."

Harry just stared at the man, becoming irked at the way he was being spoken to. However Snape was not looking at him.

"Professor Dumbledore seems to be considering returning you and…Mr Malfoy to your relative's residence, 'for your own safety'".

Harry was too preoccupied with the horror of that statement to note Snape's bitter tone. Malfoy coming to live with him and the Dursleys?! Was Dumbledore insane? It wouldn't have mattered if he alone were being sent back. Harry still hated Privet Drive with a passion but there were far worse situations to be in, as life had taught him. But having Malfoy there? Letting him see how his relatives treated Harry? Having to sneak food for the both of them? Trying to keep the Dursleys away from the blonde and vice versa? No way.

Not only that, but Malfoy would be put within the blood wards, so they would be of no more use if he decided to invite his Death Eater friends over for tea!

Shaking his head in attempt to free himself from the frustrating thoughts, Harry found Snape watching him.

"I really don't think it's a good idea to send us there sir. The Dursleys don't take well to magic and I can't imagine Malfoy surviving in a muggle house for more than five minutes." Harry tried to suppress the obvious doubt and fear he felt at the idea of Draco having access beyond the blood wards and he couldn't help but wonder if Snape was thinking the same thing.

The potion master said nothing however, simply rolling his eyes but surprisingly he didn't disagree, which Harry found odd.

"The headmaster seems quite set on his decision; however, it may be annulled if a more suitable proposition were to be presented. Neither you nor Draco can stay at the castle for the time being. It is no longer safe nor convenient. Try to keep your temper when I suggest that perhaps, Grimmauld Place might be more prudent, once we check that its ownership has passed on according to Black's wishes."

Harry sighed at the mention of Sirius, however it was an old wound. Though still painful it was nothing compared to how he had felt when it had happened in his time. Technically Sirius had died only weeks previous, but for Harry it had been years so he could cope with the dreary house. However he was not under the illusion that it would be as homey sharing it with Malfoy as it had been when he Ron and Hermione had sought refuse there when hunting horcruxes. Harry knew that the ownership had passed to him, as it had done so in his time but it could easily be checked regardless. He felt an awful lot better letting Malfoy into that house rather than the Dursley residence. It was big enough so maybe they wouldn't even have to see each other and there would be no dreadful relatives to tiptoe around.

"I think Grimmauld Place is a better idea, but is it just me and Malfoy going?" Tension had crept into Harry's voice, for despite Malfoy saving his life only hours ago, he didn't trust the boy enough to be left alone with him. For all Harry knew he was just waiting to deliver him to Voldemort. The thought alone made his insides squirm.

"Don't be so idiotic Potter. Two fifteen year olds can hardly be allowed to live unsupervised."

"Then who-"

Snape seemed to twitch slightly as he admitted he was the one 'chosen' to accompany them. Harry didn't know whether to feel horror or relief. True, Snape would keep Malfoy in check and Harry (despite their rather poisonous relationship) trusted the potions master entirely. Even if there was hate between them and Snape's tongue was biting, his deepest intentions were good and that was enough for the time being.

A minute passed in silence, each occupant of the office pondering the implications of what was about to happen and trying to keep their thoughts out of their expressions. Finally Snape straightened up and opened the door.

"I will speak with the headmaster. Since he values your precious opinion I am sure he will agree to Grimmauld place being a less unpleasant choice. Be ready to leave tomorrow morning at seven am. Inform Mr Malfoy of the arrangements."

Xxxxx

The night and morning passed quickly for Harry, perhaps because he was actually eager to escape the school. It was nine o clock in the morning when he heaved his heavy trunk onto the large bed in Sirius' old bedroom. He watched a small amount of dust spring up from coverings and settle after a moment, clearly no one had been in here for weeks. Harry had chosen this room because unusually it gave him some comfort. There was a familiarity seeing it again, since he had inhabited it during the horcrux hunt. Sirius' muggle posters adorned the wall, no doubt as immovable as ever and the wardrobe was filled with his godfathers clothes, many old but still sound in appearance. The clothes had not been here when he Ron and Hermione arrives in his time, no doubt someone had removed them by then.

As Harry considered the removal of the clothes, his thoughts drifted back to only twenty minutes before when he had had a quiet conversation with a very reluctant Kreacher on one of the dark landings, out of earshot f Snape or Malfoy. Kreacher was not at all cooperative, for Harry had obviously not formed the relationship he had had with the elf later in life. He was as unpleasant as could be, glaring and mumbling obscenities. But as proved last night, Harry was the rightful owner of Grimmauld place and thus he had to answer his master when the boy enquired about a certain locket. Harry kicked himself for not dealing with this sooner but in all the excitement of the last few weeks, he had not thought to act and to his dismay, Mundungus Fletcher had already visited the house and disappeared with the locket. Harry was furious to think the codger had robbed the place so soon after Sirius' death. However, Harry hoped he had not yet sold it to Dolores Umbridge and sent Kreacher out immediately to find Mundungus. Furious with himself for being so stupid, Harry had returned to his room and attacked his trunk, unpacking the contents with a bit more force than necessary.

He set aside some of Sirius' belongings and placed his own by them, the sight of them together making him smile a tad.

When he had unpacked the essentials, leaving the majority inside the trunk, he sat down on the bed, took his potions and waited to see how long he could last before venturing downstairs and having to encounter his two housemates.

It was dark when Harry finally left his room, having had a nap and read over some of his old textbooks to pass the time. It was now late evening and the hunger was starting to get to him. He cursed regaining his appetite and passed over the dark landing and down the stairs. It seemed both Snape and Malfoy had chosen rooms on the floor beneath his however they did not chose rooms beside each other. Harry passed their floor quietly, not wanting to run into either of them. Snape had been very clear when he barked out orders when they arrived. He obviously valued his privacy and warned them both not to disturb him unnecessarily. Dinner would be provided by a Hogwarts elf popping by every evening, seeing as Kreacher was not thought suitable for cooking edible dishes, but all other food or meals were up to each individual to get themselves.

There was a fully stocked larder, courtesy of Hogwarts and the kitchen was still clean from when the order had been using it. Harry nearly snorted aloud at the image of Snape serving up breakfast every morning and was glad that the Dursleys had made him cook. He doubted Malfoy would have a clue what to do with a cooker, but he supposed the boy could create breakfast and lunch without actually cooking anything. There was plenty of bread and cold delicacies provided by the elves in the cupboards. The two boys had been warned not to enter the lowest floor for the potions master had set up a make-shift lab there for himself so he could continue to create both Harry's antidote and any other necessities as well as the supplies for the hospital wing.

Tiptoeing by Mrs Black's portrait, Harry poked his head into various rooms, grimacing at some of the memories found in certain rooms before heading to the kitchen. He had missed dinner, which was served at six sharp, but there was likely to be leftovers set aside. Attendance at dinner wasn't required, but you had to eat at some point. The potions master had a wicked look in his eye when he threatened that if either boy starved themselves, they would be force fed. Harry reckoned this threat was more a follow on of Madame Pomphrey's demands to get them to eat more, only Snape's way of demanding things was far more worrisome.

When Harry entered to kitchen he nearly jumped when he saw Malfoy sitting at the table. Pausing for a moment, he continued past the table to root out some food, the silence falling heavy on his shoulders as he lifted the lid off a rather delicious smelling stew sitting atop the stove, still warm. Grabbing a bowl he ladled himself out some and set it down, opening various drawers until he found a spoon.

Sitting down at the opposite end of the table from Malfoy, Harry ate noiselessly, catching glimpses of the Slytherin from the corner of his eye. The other was slowly and rather delicately finishing a slice of something. Despite the strained ease Malfoy was attempting to give off, it was clear the boy was desperate to kill the uneasy silence. But Harry had no idea what to say so he did not venture into conversation. The boy before him was still subject of some loathing, distrust and confusion. But Harry as not one to be flippant about someone saving his life. They both knew Harry would have died the day previous if it wasn't for the blonde and yet this boy/death eater contributed to some of the worst experiences of Harry's existence. This jumble of feelings and history left Harry with nothing to say. This person had sold him and his friends to Voldemort, had partook in his torment, whether willing or unwilling and had betrayed the one possible trump card Harry could have held by telling Voldemort of the future. The Gryffindor was in no mood to forgive nor forget, but something still gnawed at the back of his mind.

"Potter, that stew will be glacial by the time you finish it."

Harry's mind was driven to a halt and he looked down at his spoon which was paused half-way to his mouth before looking up at the object of his mental wanderings. Scowling, he put the spoon inside his mouth with exaggeration, chewing the soft beef and swallowing.

"There, happy?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow which wasn't as sharp as it once was, before returning to his food, looking unusually subdued.

"My mother was your godfather's cousin."

Rather surprised at the conversation attempts, Harry decided to comply. He nodded slowly, spooning more stew into his hungry stomach "Yeah, I know. Er, although aren't all the purebloods related?"

Malfoy nodded.

"Inbreeding. Delightful." Harry's sarcastic remark surprisingly drew a short laugh from the blonde, but it was over before Harry had even decided if it was an actual laugh or a cough.

Things quickly turned awkward, but to Harry's surprise, Malfoy seemed to be more uneasy. As he watched the boy squirm slightly, it occurred to Harry that this was not the same Malfoy he had gone to school with, but nor was this the Malfoy who had become a death eater.

Finishing his dinner, Harry rinsed his dishes before catching sight of a small dish left out on the far corner. Inspecting further the green-eyed boy's stomach grumbled upon seeing a perfectly sticky treacle tart. It had been forever since he had truly wanted to eat something but treacle tart was his favourite and it felt like forever since he had tasted it. Grabbing a plate with haste he cut a slice for himself. It was then that he noticed the slice already missing and turned back to the table just in time to see Malfoy eat the last slice of whatever was on his plate.

Xxxxx

It was midnight when Harry finally decided he couldn't sleep and got out of bed. Pulling one of Dudley's old jumpers over his pyjamas to combat the chill in the room, he decided a hot drink would help. The Dursleys had never noticed the absence of a teabag, so Harry had snuck many cups of tea throughout his years, washing the mug and placing it back in its place before any notice was taken.

Leaving his room stealthily, Harry shivered at the darkness, sighing in relief when he slipped into the kitchen, the fire low in the grate giving a pleasant light. Being underage again was killing Harry and he mumbled slightly as he lit some candles with the small flame in the fireplace, putting them on the table and setting out to find tea. He managed to find a box of tealeaves and then another ten minutes, a strainer, so within fifteen minutes he had a mug and a small pot full of tea beside him. A pot was a luxury he hadn't had before and the novelty was welcome.

Sipping his drink he looked at the chair Malfoy had occupied earlier that night and sighed. He really didn't know what to do about him. Things were so confusing. Harry couldn't trust him nor his change, but sickeningly he found himself wanting to believe it.

Swallowing extra hard at the thought of what had happened to Ron and Hermione, Harry decided he couldn't actually forgive Malfoy. He had told Voldemort where the Golden Trio were located which led to their capture during the battle of Hogwarts. He couldn't forget the triumph in Malfoy's eyes when Harry was held captive at Malfoy Manor. However after that initial smugness, Harry had noticed the young death eater had begun to wither. Oh he had obeyed every order, but he had not acted on his own initiative any longer. Harry even dared to think he was sometimes reluctant to carry out his duties, but months trapped in a cell had convinced the boy-who-lived that Malfoy's reluctance was just his imagination. And now here they both were. Both with experiences of the future, thrown into the past which was infinitely creating an entirely new future. Ron and Hermione were alive, even if Harry was now estranged from them, at least they were alive. Sirius and Cedric were the only true casualties of the war so far.

To the world, none of what Harry had gone through, nor what Malfoy had committed had happened yet. But to the two boys, it was their reality. Harry considered the effects on each of them that time travelling had. Harry was given a second chance, as were all those he cared about, whereas Malfoy was now cut off from those he called family and friends, but he had an attempt at redemption.

Could Harry give him the opportunity to do so? He was simply too exhausted to be on constant watch for deceit from the Slytherin. His friends were out of reach of the young Malfoy, so perhaps he could give him a tad freer rein and see what happens. Harry didn't know if Draco would be a useful ally or a hindrance, but he supposed time would tell. Sighing, Harry grabbed his mug and refilled it, putting the teapot on the draining board and heading back up to his room. He shut the door as quietly as possible, nervous about waking any of the two occupants.

Placing his tea on the floor beside his still mostly full trunk, which was dumped beside the bed, Harry sat on the wooden ground and begun to rifle through the rest of its contents. He hadn't rummaged properly through his old stuff, well, they seemed old to him. His hands lifted out the precious photo album Hagrid had once given him and he wondered what had become of it in his time after he was taken. He couldn't recall when he had last set eyes on it. However he didn't open it, but placed it to the side, feeling safer not looking at the memories within. Slightly shaking hands then found his invisibility cloak, as smooth and silvery as ever, but he did not take that out either. At the back of his mind he asked himself when he had become such a coward.

There was one item he did retrieve however, from its secret place at the very bottom of the trunk, wrapped In various cloths. At one point he had intended to present it to his potions professor, as a peace offering of sorts, but that moment had slipped by and now as he stared at the small stone he was at quite a loss. This was the only item, besides clothing, that had travelled back with him and Harry wondered what happened to the stone which was supposed to be adorn the ring in this time. Slowly he turned it in his hand once, but no more, holding his breath as he did so. He had never used the stone after seeing the ghosts of his parents. Once he had spoken to them, faced his death only to live and escaped back into the castle to find his friends, he had not had much time to consider it before he was captured.

He couldn't believe he had managed to keep it safe during those months, but the stone remained hidden within his right sock, an article of clothing that had thankfully never left his body. Harry wasn't sure if accidental magic had aided its secrecy and undetectable presence, but he was simply thankful. It was a great comfort to him, even if it was never used. It made him feel less lonely knowing his parents…and friends were simply a call away if he ever grew that desperate. But he had never indulged, too afraid of losing the stone to the death eaters, although he didn't see what use Voldemort would have with it. He would likely have destroyed it, since his fear of death was so absolute.

But how would Snape react to the stone? Harry knew he would hate James Potter's son prying into his business, but it would give the sallow-skinned man a chance to see and speak with Harry's mother. It might not only help the potions master but ease the undeniable tension between Harry and his mother's best friend. The green-eyed boy briefly wondered if Malfoy had any dead relatives or friends he would wish to talk to, but Harry didn't see how. Nothing had happened to the Malfoy's physical state yet, although Lucius was probably not faring well with his master at the moment.

Even despite this, Harry felt it would be wrong to include Malfoy in the stones existence, it felt like it was only meant for a certain amount of people. Dumbledore had not fared well with it in Harry's sixth year and it had surely destroyed many other men, just like the mirror of Erised had. But if anyone was strong enough to deal with the stone, it was Snape. And Harry owed him everything, despite their animosity. Giving the man a moment of happiness might begin to repay the very large debt accumulating. But now was not the time, s Harry re-wrapped it and his it away once more, gulping down his tea and leaning back against the side of the bed, ready for a long night of sleepless hours.

Xxxxx

A few days passed with each of the house's occupants only encountering each other briefly. With the time that passed, the continuing doses of potion and perhaps with the removal from Hogwarts, Harry's strength returned even more. The scar near his eye was slowly fading and the burns he obtained only days previously were gone thanks to the healing salve he was given. He was eating more, had more energy and was perhaps less depressed than before. The dank house held good times for him, good times that predated most of the death and destruction in his life and it brought back the sad, yet good memories of his godfather and himself and the brief time they had together.

He had even found the strength to begin a letter to Ron, though he had no intention of sending it and had no clue on what to put in it. But it was rather encouraging.

As he made his way down to the kitchen on that Saturday morning, Harry actually considered his breakfast. Stopping on one of the stairs abruptly, he marvelled at the rather normal consideration of what he would like for breakfast. It was nice to have a thought like that. A regular guy, with no magical destiny or doom would have a thought like that on a Saturday morning. The type of guy who has a quiet life and reads the newspaper. Shaking his head at his noticeable insanity, Harry continued on past the portrait of Mrs Black, hearing her cursing quietly behind it, down to the basement kitchen.

As soon as he entered the room he froze. There, sitting at the kitchen table, were his potions professor and old nemesis. This was the first time all three had eaten a meal at the same time and it did not feel natural. He had passed them in the hallways, muttered 'good morning' and goodnight' when appropriate, even to Malfoy, whom had been just as civil, but twice as awkward.

Snape looked indifferent as opposed to his usual annoyed, and he ignored Harry's entrance, sipping coffee from a cup in front of him and leafing through some papers. He was dressed in his regular black and sat rather stiffly. Malfoy on the other hand was buttering some toast and did look up at Harry's entrance, giving the other boy a brief nod which Harry supposed was the Malfoy equivalent of 'morning'. Edging around toward the larder, Harry considered its contents, before deciding to cook sausages. He had not had sausages for breakfast in an eternity and his appetite would greatly appreciate it. So he took a few from the cooling area and set a pan on the stove. Then he paused for a moment.

"Er, would anyone like a sausage? I'm cooking some."

Feeling ridiculous, Harry couldn't help but mentally groan when Snape's eyes rolled up towards Harry's own green ones. But surprisingly, there was no sarcastic retort to the unusual offer, instead, the tall man merely shook his head slowly and deliberately. Malfoy however, spoke

"I'll have two, if you're going to cook them anyway."

Harry threw an extra two into his four and stood over the pan, trying not to think that he was essentially cooking Draco Malfoy's breakfast. This was not happening.

But alas, it was and soon Harry had placed a plate with two well-cooked sausages in front of the blonde before sitting down to his own with a glass of orange juice and two slices of bread.

A somewhat reluctant thanks was murmured, but it seemed genuine so Harry was satisfied.

As Malfoy chewed his first bite, he decided to go out on a limb and strike up a conversation.

"Not bad… for a Gryffindor anyway."

Harry might have been offended but he decided to go in for a little revenge instead.

"The sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin you know" Harry was casual as he said it, casting a sly glance at Malfoy's horrified expression, glad to have tarnished the blonde's view of his house forever. But Harry didn't expect the professor at the table to suddenly choke on his coffee as Harry made the statement. The dark-haired man didn't look up from his work, but Harry knew he had heard.

"But, you're as Gryffindor as they come!"

Malfoy's genuine surprise wiped away the battle of wits that may have come about and Harry shrugged. He didn't mention that it was because of Malfoy that Harry had not wanted to enter the Snake house. There was a silent agreement forming between them. The past had not been brought up and neither had Malfoy's heroic act a few days previous. Both were ok with that, for neither knew where the other one stood. But if they had to live together, a temporary ignorance of certain things was wise.

"I might have a few Slytherin traits" Harry said, taking a bite out of his toast. Malfoy scoffed, setting down his fork.

"Please Potter, name one Slytherin-esque thing you have done and speaking parseltongue does not count!"

Harry rose to the challenge in the grey eyes and he racked his brain, coming to a swift answer "I blew up my aunt when I was thirteen."

"You-what…"

Even Snape's eyes had stopped moving over the papers he had. Harry knew the man would have been informed of the event, but he seemed to have grabbed his interest.

"Yeah, my uncle's sister. She was…annoying me and I inflated her to the size of a small elephant and watched her bob along the ceiling. It was an accident I suppose, but I wasn't sorry. It may have been a shock then, but it sure as heck is funny now."

Malfoy was gaping at him, clearly trying to sort out the information in his mind. Harry simply snorted in amusement and returned to his breakfast; missing Snape's raised eyebrow and the looks he was casting between the blonde and the black haired boy.

xxxxx


	12. Letters, Discussions and Blood

Chapter 12: Letters, Discussions and Blood

xxxxx

_Dear Ron,_

_I don't even know how to start this, but I just need you to know that I'm sorry. You and Hermione must be so confused. I didn't want to push you two away, but I was in a very bad place. You don't understand what it's like to see you two again. I couldn't look at either of you without being reminded of certain things I'd rather forget. I don't know how much Dumbledore told you and I promise one day I will explain everything. Just know that despite my reaction, seeing you two alive was the best moment I can remember. I know things are strange right now, but I'm still your best mate, I just need to work on some stuff. If we could write to each other for the time being, I'd be so grateful. I'm sending a similar letter to Hermione, so I hope you two are alright with this temporary situation,_

_Harry_

Harry sat back from his letter, unsure of his words. Re-reading it again, he frowned. It sounded a bit strange, but it was the best he could do. It had taken a lot to even write down as much as he had. He hoped that if they reconnected through letters he would be able to move on to face-to-face contact and their old friendship.

Folding the parchment, he placed it in the drawer of the handsome bedside locker and lay back on the bed. Stretching a little he felt a little twinge in his chest, but it was barely there. He truly was getting better. He hadn't had to ask for pain relief in a long time and the discolouration around his wound was almost entirely gone. After his dose of potion around dinner time earlier that day, he had checked it, to find it shrunk smaller than it had been even yesterday. Snape had not asked to see it while they had been at Grimmauld place, but he did enquire daily about Harry's physical state and seemed satisfied when Harry reported positively. Although harry had not missed the seriously scrutinizing looks Snape gave him as he gave these reports. He was looking for even a twitch of a lie in the green eyes. It was obvious the potions master would never trust the son of James Potter, but at breakfast that morning he had not been as hostile as he usually was. Perhaps living in such close vicinity and the fact he inhabited Harry's house had inclined him to be more mannerly? But Harry couldn't be sure. He did know that the man had not grown to like him anymore than ever, but he was not as vicious as he had been at Hogwarts. But saying that, Snape's temper was legendary and Harry had no doubt that if he angered him in the slightest, Snape would cut him like a knife.

Malfoy also had been far less…Slytherin? Harry didn't ignore the blonde's attempts to engage him in conversation over breakfast. He had been so different than how Harry remembered him and it was only as he lay there it came to him. Malfoy lacked the self-confidence he had once had. He was still arrogant, but there was no self-righteous attitude to connect him to the boy Harry had encountered in his first year of Hogwarts. He was not the scornful yet terrified boy who had witnessed and aided Harry's capture. He was also not the boy who had tortured him on Voldemort's command. That Malfoy had no self-confidence like now, but he had no personality left in him in the last months of Harry's imprisonment. That Draco had been a hollow robot, carrying out orders.

But this Malfoy, this one was a mix of the new and old, with, Harry begrudgingly admitted the better halves of each of his personalities. He had lost the self-righteous act and also the hollow shell persona. He was still arrogant, but clearly insecure and a little more willing to improve himself. He was the very opposite of how he had been when he sold out harry and his friends. It was mind numbingly confusing and Harry didn't think he would ever understand it. But in his good nature, Harry had allowed the possibility that Malfoy could and would change, but if this was just a betrayal cleverly disguised, Harry would curse himself…but not before he ripped the blonde apart. There would not be an ounce of forgiveness left in him if this was all a ploy.

As these dark thoughts possessed the green-eyed-boy for a moment, he almost missed the knock on the door. Sliding off of the bed he padded over to the door in his socks, opening it to find the subject of his inner struggles in front of him.

"Prof-Dumbledore is downstairs, he wants to talk to you," Malfoy gave a tight jerk of the shoulders which looked like an uptight shrug "I don't know what for, but Professor Snape sent me up here to get you."

"Oh right, good."

With the silence descending, Malfoy turned on his heel and headed back downstairs, leaving Harry time to find some shoes before following.

Dumbledore was dressed in the finest midnight blue and he looked more relaxed than Harry had seen him in a while. He was standing beside the lit fire in the sitting room. Snape inhabited a straight armchair nearby and looked slightly aggravated at the older wizard's slightly cheerful presence. The room was well lit with candles, as it was nearly eight in the evening and darkness was falling despite the summer months. Harry had noticed that the skies had seemed darker as of late and he doubted it had much to do with natural forces. The sitting room has a slightly musty smell that Harry actually liked. It smelled like old books, probably due to the many volumes that inhabited the shelved lining the walls. The potions professor had one such volume open nearby and Harry suspected that Dumbledore had interrupted the quiet evening the professor had intended upon having.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling slightly as the boy himself walked through the doorway, Malfoy having went on to the kitchen, clearly not wanting to be a part of the conversation "I take it you are well."

Harry nodded in confirmation, briefly mentioning the improvement of his injury. However the small talk only lasted a minute or two and then Dumbledore's face turned a little more serious.

"I came here tonight to discuss a few things with you. I have sought out the ring you advised me on and was beyond careful when removing it." He held up his hands, both undamaged besides the many wrinkles the possessed and Harry felt immense relief.

"I have broken the curse upon it and it is no longer a horcrux. Gryffindor's sword worked perfectly and I sincerely thank you for the suggestion Harry. But there is one thing that eludes me. You mentioned the stone atop the ring, however, the ring I recovered had no such adornment. The setting was empty."

Silence reigned for a moment and Harry suddenly felt his heartbeat in his ears, thinking of the stone neatly wrapped in his trunk upstairs, but he held his mind closed to the best of his abilities. Perhaps he should have told Dumbledore, but Harry could not bring himself. Like he himself, the stone that travelled from the future had replaced the one in this time, much as Harry had replaced himself in a sense. In this way, Dumbledore would never be tempted by the stone. In the original timeline, Dumbledore had learned his lesson and cursed himself in his desperation to use it, but this Dumbledore had not learned from his mistakes and Harry was unsure that the wizard could give Ariana up if he saw her again. And so, amidst guilt that he was keeping his sister from him, Harry acted none-the-wiser as the whereabouts of the stone, not willing to take the chance. Perhaps another time, when things died down, he would give the stone to the headmaster, but Harry did not want to tempt him and so he swallowed his guilt. He had provided Dumbledore with scores of information when he met him to inform him of the danger surrounding the ring, but he did not mention he had the stone.

"Well, it shall have to remain a mystery for now if you cannot provide an answer for us my boy," Dumbledore seemed a bit put off but he did not dwell on it "I must move on to other subjects."

"The order has not heard much of Voldemort's activities as of late. With Severus discovered as a spy, we have lost out main source of intelligence. However we do know that he is still recruiting heavily. Many of the giants are now loyal to him and Remus tells me that there are more and more werewolves coming out in favour of the Death Eaters every day."

Harry didn't react the news, he simply stared ahead, none of it surprising him. However the thought that Voldemort would have the same formidable army he had possessed in Harry's time sat uncomfortably with the boy-who-lived. He could vividly picture the damage the giants alone inflicted on the castle.

"We also know that he has doubled his efforts to find out yours and Severus' whereabouts. There has been a handsome offer whispered through Knockturn alley as a reward for any information."

Harry saw Snape's mouth tighten from the corner of his eye but he didn't look at the man. They truly were bound to this house now.

"I have also heard rumours about the Malfoy family. Narcissa Malfoy seems to have disappeared into hiding soon after young Draco's disappearance. I have order members attempting to find her and communicate with her. I cannot be sure if she is no longer leaning toward Voldemort's side or not, but her leaving was wise. With Lucius disgraced and their son's abandonment of the Death Eaters, Voldemort would not be forgiving toward her."

"I don't think Narcissa is loyal to him," Harry said, causing Snape and Dumbledore to turn to him "She's not really a bad person, I think she only cares about her family. She was only there because her husband and son were. The rest of it never really mattered to her. She was kind to me I guess."

Snape had now given Harry about three strange looks, while Dumbledore's face had softened "I'll keep that in mind Harry. If we find her we will offer her the same protection as her son if she will accept it."

Harry nodded his approval. He knew that Malfoy's mother wasn't actually bad. She had always given him water when he asked and he suspected she was breaking more than a few rules in doing so and she had never cursed him, although she had never been ordered to. She had just faded into the background somehow.

"Oh Harry, I have a letter for you. Hedwig arrived at the castle with it. I shall leave it to you to open in private. It was checked for spells or hexes."

Harry looked confused as the man handed him an envelope. It was not of thick parchment as he usually received, but was of thinner paper. Noticing Snape's raised eyebrow, he stuffed it in his pocket, intent upon reading it as soon as he escaped to his bedroom.

Dumbledore stay for about half an hour, informing that the professors were beginning to return to Hogwarts and he had updated Professor McGonagall on everything, which Harry was satisfied with. And then he was gone. Harry could almost feel that Snape wanted him out of the room then, though perhaps he did not want to order Harry out of his own sitting room so he did not voice these wants. Harry got the message anyway and left the room, stepping onto the stairs before a low voice stopped him.

"Why did you say that about my mother?"

Harry froze, stopping on the third stair and turning around to see Malfoy half in the shadows of the hallway.

"Snooping Malfoy?"

The blonde didn't rise to the taunt, he simply stared at Harry as if he were some strange creature "Why?"

Harry sighed slightly "Because it's true. She never seemed truly bad to me. If she wants protection from him, she should have it. He doesn't take kindly to desertion."

"I suppose not" the blonde said softly.

Harry looked at Malfoy a little confused before turning to head back upstairs, but again was caught in his tracks.

"I am sorry Potter."

There was silence. Harry never knew that words could have such a profound effect until that moment. He didn't turn back around to face the ex-death eater. He couldn't find the strength to look at the other boy.

"I never meant…I was so angry and jealous. You saved my life and then I did that stupid-so stupid. You know, I was glad when you were first taken. I felt I had finally won something over you, but then the deaths started. I may never have liked your Gryffindor friends, but even I…and then what he did to you and made me do…I should have said no. I should have, but I couldn't. I didn't want to die."

There was quiet for a moment as the words were digested. Harry had stopped breathing as he listened.

"Believe me when I say I have never regretted anything more. I may not like you, even if I hated you at one point, there is no excuse. When I was chosen by him to come back and warn his past self of the future, I did so out of fear. I could not help myself. But I was also happy to come back. The spell could have gone horribly wrong, but at least if I did get back here, none of those horrors would have happened yet."

The words stopped suddenly and Harry knew instantly that Malfoy couldn't go on. One apology was more than he had ever managed in a lifetime and Harry had no doubt as to the truth in the words. But it wasn't enough.

Taking a breath, Harry closed his eyes as he spoke "I understand why you did it. I get that by the time your anger and arrogance wore off you were in too deep and couldn't get out. But it isn't enough."

"I saved your girlfriend."

The world stopped for a moment and Harry spun on his heel "what?"

"That Weasley girl, you were in love with her from what I heard. I was in a raiding party, hunting out people who had gone into hiding. We found a house hiding a few witches and wizards, most had been friendly with Dumbledore. Anyway, that red-headed girl was there. I found her in one of the rooms upstairs, she had no wand on her…I guess it was guilt. I owed you more than I could pay back, but I told the others I found nothing and kept them distracted while she escaped out of the back staircase. They never found her so she must have got to safety."

Malfoy's face was almost anxious as he waited for a response, but Harry couldn't formulate one.

Staring at Malfoy for a minute, he finally spoke.

"I don't think I will ever forgive what happened, but if you truly have changed and want the future to be different, then prove it. Don't sit on the side-lines this time. Actively change things. If you help me and I mean really help, then perhaps neither of us will have to experience that hell." Harry nearly spat the last word out and he could see Malfoy solemnly agreed.

"If we change it, then it won't exist anymore and we can try and forget. That is the best we can hope for."

There it was, the bottom line. Harry knew this would make or break how they saw each other. He would never really forgive, but perhaps forgetting was something that could be worked on.

Malfoy's pale face was set, his jaw a tad shaky, but he stuck out his hand. The green-eyed-boy hesitated, but only for a moment, before taking it and shaking it, watching the pale grey eyes as he did so.

"You have a deal Potter. I will help you. I can't promise anything, but I will try."

Harry nodded, letting go of the hand and finally made his way upstairs. As he disappeared onto the dark landing, he murmured "I don't think we need to talk about this much more at the moment. And, thank you… for Ginny."

xxxxxx

Pushing away thoughts of the momentous occurrence on the stairs, Harry closed his door softly, moving over to the lamp beside his bed. Taking out the now slightly crumpled letter, almost to distract himself, he smoothed it out and looked at the simple 'Harry' written on its front in rather sloppy writing. Opening it, he turned it over, astonished to see what was clearly muggle stationary.

_Harry,_

_I'm not sure why I'm writing this to you, but mum said this is the only way to contact you. They told her you were at the school, since you disappeared a while ago. I didn't tell her why I wanted to talk to you and I normally wouldn't but I kind of have to. Mum and Dad don't know anything about them. I'm not one of your kind, but I know what I felt. I was walking home one night when it happened, only a bit away from the house. It got cold and sort of … wrong, and I heard rattling breath. There was nothing there when I looked and mum would think I'd gone bonkers if I told her, so I wrote to you instead. They have to be something to do with your lot, I think they were looking for you, the place seemed off for a few nights. What were they? And are they going to come back? Can they get into the house? We never liked each other, but I need help now, I don't want those things to come back_

_Dudley_

Harry stared at the letter for a moment, before racking his brains, measuring the times. The Dudley in this time period hadn't encountered the dementors with Harry. Harry had travelled back, replacing this time period's Harry with the future one before any of the events of the dementor attack or the ministry hearing had occurred. Guess Dudley would never be telling him he wasn't a waste of space. Without those events, Dudley would never see Harry in a different light than he always had.

But judging by Dudley's mysterious letter, Umbridge wasn't aware Harry was no longer near Privet Drive, for she had sent the dementors anyway and they had undoubtedly been looking for him. He shivered at the thought of them haunting Privet Drive in pursuit of him.

Grabbing a quill and a piece of parchment from a drawer he scribbled a reply, explaining what was happening and told Dudley he would tell the right people to get rid of the dementors. As he finished the rather factual letter, Harry hesitated, thinking about how it had felt to have his cousin acknowledge him as something worthy before he departed and Harry had never seen him again. So acting on that, he took a chance and added a rather foolish-sounding _'Are you alright?' _at the end of the letter.

Deciding now was the best time, he sealed the envelope and headed back down stairs and into the sitting room, where Snape and Malfoy were reading quietly, in armchairs on separate sides of the room.

Harry felt awkward invading the silence, but he knew it was somewhat of an emergency.

"Professor Snape?"

"What is it?"

There was no sharpness to the tone as usual, just subtle annoyance. Snape sounded tired and resigned, although Dumbledore's discussions tended to do that to people.

"That letter was from my cousin. He doesn't know what they are but from what he described there are dementors searching Little Whinging for me."

He briefly explained what had happened in his time, with the dementors and Umbridge, at which, Snape's face had begun to look less tired and more serious.

"I see," he murmured, standing from his seat "I will deal with this, if you two can stay out of trouble in my absence. I will not be long. It is a pity you could not have informed us of this while the headmaster was still here Potter.

There it was. The hiss, the sharpness and the accusations.

Harry bit back a retort, handing his letter addressed to Dudley to the Professor "I hadn't read the letter at that point sir and I didn't think all of this would come to pass now that the present had been altered."

Snape rolled his eyes, but said nothing to that. However he did not look at all pleased when Harry asked could his letter be delivered to Privet Drive somehow. He literally snatched it from Harry's hands and swept from the room to use the larger fireplace.

Xxxxx

Severus Snape cursed the loss of a quiet uneventful evening. He had spoken to the headmaster by floo for over an hour, debating the Umbridge situation and sent on Harry's letter to Dumbledore, who would entrust it to Hedwig alone, once it had untraceable spells placed upon it. By the time they had finished, he was severely irritated and tired. He did not sleep well in Black's old house, surrounded by creaking floorboards and unpleasant memories.

He had already decided to have a scotch before turning in that night. He could not take a dose of sleeping draught. He had to be fully aware at all times, considering the house held three of the Dark Lord's 'most wanted'. A scotch would relax him, but not knock him out. He would rather die than admit it, but he had been rather jumpy lately. The paranoia and fear of being discovered was never far from the dark man's mind and he had no naïve views on what would happen if they were discovered, particularly Potter.

He also had a constant headache due to the behaviour of his two students. One minute, Potter was about to commit murder, then he was cooking sausages for Draco and one minute Draco is his typical arrogant self, the next he is humbled almost to the point of embarrassment. It drove Snape mad, but he was thankful he did not have to come into contact with them too regularly. In fact, Potter seemed to keep to his room ninety per cent of the time, doing Merlin knows what. He had noticed the boy becoming healthier and less angry. He seemed more content in this house, something Snape did not expect. There had been traces of the old Potter visible in the last few days.

He considered the letter Potter had given him. So it was from his cousin, Petunia's son. As he fixed his promised glass of scotch, he wondered what the boy was like. Potter hadn't given away any information on what he thought about his cousin. He seemed indifferent to the boy in general, but concerned about the situation. If the boy was anything like Petunia, he was bound to be an absolute nightmare.

He sat at the kitchen table, content at the silence that reigned, sipping his drink.

But luck was not something the potions master possessed in great quantity and after only seven minutes and thirty-three seconds of silence, the kitchen door opened, oddly revealing both Potter and Malfoy. However, it was painfully clear they did not intent to come as a pair, for there was no conversation or interaction as they separated, Harry heading to make a cup of tea and Malfoy slowly cutting himself a thin slice of bread which was supposedly supper.

As the kettle whistled and Snape's patience withered, Malfoy sat at the table, his bread now holding a slice of delicious looking ham. There was the sound of a soft snort when the blonde lifted a knife and fork to eat the open sandwich and he shot a look to the dark haired boy, who was pointedly looking the other way.

Snape itched to throw the two out, but instead decided to leave himself. But before he could rise, a rather sharp crack rang through the room. Snape had his wand out in two seconds, pointing at the source of the noise, glass forgotten on the table, but it took all three males only seconds to realise it was a houself carrying groceries standing in front of them. But not just any houself…

"D-Dobby?" The disbelief came from Harry, who stared at the elf as if he were a ghost.

Snape relaxed instantly, knowing that houselves from Hogwarts were charged with filling the pantry, but the two boys were not so content with remaining inactive.

"Dobby?" Malfoy blurted out, astonished to see his old house elf in front of him, looking quite odd in various socks and jumpers of various colours. But Dobby only had eyes for one person.

"Harry Potter sir?" he squealed, eyes bugging out.

Harry gaped, before his face turned into a rather rare smile "Dobby! It is you!"

Harry made his way over to the small creature, kneeling down and grabbing the elf's hand warmly. He would never ever forget Dobby and his brave yet terrible sacrifice to help them escape Malfoy Manor. Without him, Harry would have had been captured earlier and subjected to a longer imprisonment. Even discounting all that, it was wonderful to see someone familiar, who didn't look shocked and grieved at both his appearance and story, but simply saw him as Harry Potter.

Dobby looked overwhelmed at the welcome he received and he began sobbing happily, informing Harry of each new sock he had for himself and any news he had on his position in Hogwarts.

Neither of the happy party noticed the shock and disbelief written across the two Slytherins faces at the scene. Snape couldn't believe that Harry was fawning over a house-elf. This was the same boy whom he had thought as arrogant as his father for many years and here he was, chatting with a house elf like old friends. Even more shocking was the happiness on Harry's face. His human friends seemed to have brought out the terror of his future, but this elf made him smile. The boy was clearly unhinged.

Malfoy on the other hand, couldn't believe Potter's closeness with Dobby. He had known the elf had worked on Harry's behalf, such as at Malfoy Manor, but this was surreal. It was surreal enough to see Dobby, let alone Harry Potter and Dobby almost shaking hands as equals.

"Dobby is delighted to be seeing his friend Harry Potter once more!"

"I know the feeling" Harry said kindly.

"Dobby will ask Headmaster Dumbledore if he can deliver all Harry Potters food so he may see his friend, but I has to be putting these away and getting back to the kitchens."

Dobby began to pick up the bags he had appeared with "Here I'll help you with those" Harry offered, grabbing the heavier ones and following the elf to the larder.

Dobby couldn't get his thank-you out fast enough and after several promises to see Harry soon, the elf was gone.

Xxxxx

Returning to make his tea, his chest a little lighter, Harry was met with some strange looks from Malfoy and a calculating one from Snape.

"How on earth do you know that house elf so well Potter?" the professor asked, voice incredulous.

"Er, it's rather a long story," Harry mumbled, suddenly a little embarrassed as he realised he had had an audience "but Dobby's great."

Harry decided to go to bed early to escape the weird looks, so he made his tea rather speedily.

However, just as he picked up the cup to carry to his room, a shot of pain ran through him and he wobbled slightly on his feet. Neither of the other two noticed, so he took a quiet breath and steadied himself, thinking he needed to take another dose of his potion and it would stop. But it didn't take long to realise the pain was not radiating from his chest like his regular pain. It shot down through his arm so quickly he gasped in pain.

"Potter?"

Harry couldn't turn to face his teacher, he stared at the counter surface, willing the pain to go away when it suddenly escalated. He cried out, dropping the tea, barely hearing it shatter as it hit the floor, too busy watching, terrified, as a deep cut ate its way through his palm, the skin ripping apart like tender meat, slowly, blood pooling up in the broad crack instantly. It was literally like someone was carving into his flesh with a knife.

Snape had flown over to him the minute the cry left his lips and he instantly grabbed Harry's hand, watching in sick fascination as the cut continued to just before the wrist. before stopping. By now, Harry's hand was soaked in blood, and it had dripped morbidly to the floor, making a light pitter-patter sound.

Malfoy had stood, looking pale as Snape pulled Harry over to the better light, before running his wand over the brutal incision, looking intense. Harry gritted his teeth as the wound seared, the potions master getting ever more frustrated when his diagnostic spells came back unclear. He conjured a clean towel and told Harry to hold it to the cut. He didn't want to use spells in case it reacted badly with whatever spell had caused it, so he barked at Draco to fetch his potions kit from his room. A terrified Malfoy did as he was told without hesitation and fled up the stairs.

As he reached the top stair a terrible scream ran through the house, echoing from the kitchen, which only made him run faster.

xxxxx


	13. The Opening Move

A/N: I would like to give an immense thank-you to my reviewers, I do not thank you as much as I should. I am always super chuffed when I get such good feedback

Xxxxx

13: The Opening Move

Malfoy burst through the kitchen door, panting and clutching the wooden box that opened into a small store of Snape's key potions. He stopped short when he took in the scene. There was blood on the floor and the potions professor seemed to be wrestling with the now sobbing Harry, attempting to keep him still while the boy twisted from side to side, half kneeling, half sitting on the floor.

"Get over here Draco!"

Snape was pale as he drew his two arms around the green-eyed-boy's torso, pinning him to his chest as Harry struggled, eyes scrunched tightly, almost in hysterics.

Malfoy placed the potions down beside the pair, trying not to step in any blood nor touch Potter, but Snape did not have the patience for Malfoy's delicate ways at that particular moment and he barked orders. Draco's pale fingers rooted through the vials, his fingers slipping on the glass due to a slight layer of sweat coating both his hands but he retrieved a blood replenishers easily enough, followed by an anti-infection concoction. But it was quickly very clear that they would not be able to treat Potter as he was, the boy had gone into some sort of seizure or attack, so the professor ordered him to stun Harry, unable to perform it as he tried to keep a grip on him. Malfoy swallowed as he pulled out his wand and trained it on Harry's form, well aware of the many times he had been in this position before, but he sent the stunner regardless and instantly the other boy went limp in Snape's arms, unconsciousness claiming him and his face finally relaxing.

Snape grabbed the vials Malfoy had retrieved before taking hold of his own wand, preparing to treat the wound. But both he and Malfoy froze when they caught sight of Harry's arm lying limp against the cold floor. There, clear as day, in large but sickeningly elegant script, the word 'MINE' was engraved into Harry's skin. Neither of the small party had any doubts as to whom would assume such a claim over the boy. But the worrying fact was, how on earth did he cause it to happen when he wasn't even near the boy?

Xxxxx

The Dark Lord was not happy. He had not managed to access Potter's mind in some time, either the boy had been blocking him somehow, which he doubted or perhaps the old fool had doubled his efforts to protect his golden boy. After much magical effort and concentration, he had managed to cut through the barriers, however his fun had been cut short and his presence was forced to fade from the boy's mind as Harry was knocked unconscious.

Voldemort seethed, sitting in a high backed wooden chair, scraping his rather long nails along the armrest, wand on the table beside him. He had almost had full access to the boy. His spell was working as intended but had been cut short. If Harry had simply been asleep it would not have been interrupted, but the spell that had knocked him out had interfered with the Dark Lords own casting, thus he was thrown out of the boy's mind. It was infuriating. Though he did not know Potter's whereabouts, for a few glorious minutes, he had corrupted Harry's mental balance, fully capable of affecting him mentally and physically. He had only intended to cause mental disturbance, but Voldemort assumed his overpowering presence had led to a manipulation of the boy's physical being, causing the delicious carved letters to appear in Harry's skin. The moment he had accessed the Gryffindor's being, his main intention was pain and he was driven by the will to possess, so, happily, that thought came into existence in its own twisted way. That was the beauty of the dark arts, sometimes they produced unintended but satisfactory results. It made him wonder how much farther he could take it. At the ministry the boy had banished him, though unknowingly, with disgusting memories and thoughts. This time, things were different. Things never worked according to plan when it came to the two of them, but perhaps that fact didn't always have to work in Potter's favour.

However despite the slightly greater success this time round, he had been denied his fun far too soon. It had taken an enormous amount of concentration and magic to affect the boy so from such a distance and under the various protections as he was. To enact it again would require some recovery time, and patience was not something Lord Voldemort possessed in great quantities. But when it came to Harry Potter, he did have certain…enthusiasm, so he would wait. But that did not lower the disappointment and irritation at having been interrupted. He stood quietly, moving to the empty fireplace, staring into the ashes that had gathered there. Things were not going as smoothly as he had expected. Draco Malfoy might have been a spineless traitor-and make no mistake, he would pay dearly for such a betrayal-but Voldemort did not doubt that the boy had divulged all he had been ordered to. It was only afterwards he had lost his nerve and ran. He had assumed that the information would make things run more smoothly and in his favour, but Potter remained the ever annoying thorn in his side, avoiding capture at every turn. His servants whom were sent to Hogwarts would see no mercy from their lord once he saw fit to release them from Azkaban. There was no excuse for failing him in any way, let alone in such an important manner. He would leave them to rot for a while longer, to ponder their sins and think on what punishment awaited them.

In fact, he had a similar plan for the young Potter boy. Once he connected to the boy once more, they would be having a little chat. He had wasted enough energy on mental torture on the first try, Harry and he needed to converse. There was nothing like planting the seed of absolute fear. The victim would end up torturing himself first and then the Dark Lord could make the final move and set fire to the boy's bones. And as for a certain potions master…his betrayal ran deep, something Voldemort would not admit to and there would be no place in the universe the man could hide that he would not be found.

Nagini hissed from a corner of the room, but he didn't turn to his beloved snake, much too engrossed in his thoughts. The boy and Snape needed a warning… that much was clear. He was coming for them both and they would not pretend they were safe any longer. To allow them to do so was an insult to his own power and influence. He may not know where they were cowering, but his message would get through.

Xxxxx

The wound had been examined and treated to the best of Snape's abilities. But he had absolutely no clue how the Dark Lord had managed such a feat. The house had extremely strong protection, never-mind the fact that distance alone should prevent magic being cast in such a way.

Harry was still asleep, recovering on the couch in the sitting-room. Snape didn't feel right putting him in his bedroom, he needed to keep an eye on him, so he sat reading in an armchair, not really taking in the words, but listening to Potters shallow breaths.

It was very clear that things were escalating now. Severus knew an opening move when he saw it and this was most definitely one.

Malfoy had been so shaken he had not reappeared downstairs after Snape had patched Harry up and cleaned the kitchen floor. The potions professor supposed he was in his bedroom. Though he understood why the blonde was in shock, this type of attitude was not going to cut it if the young Malfoy intended to survive the war. The quiet, uninvolved, hiding-in-the-shadows may have worked under the Dark Lord's rule, but to oppose such a force required a completely different approach and Snape had yet to see the boy act with strong conviction. Running from the Dark Lord was impressive, but Draco didn't seem committed to anything at the moment. However, Snape had not witnessed Malfoy's discussion with Harry.

Throwing down his book, Snape stood and began to pace, avoiding looking at the sleeping boy. He was agitated and edgy, something he could usually keep under wraps, but this was different. Something didn't feel right. The dark man had a good perception of things and he doubted his fears were unfounded.

Raising his wand, he tested the wards. They were still there, strong as ever. It was true that Voldemort could influence Harry from anywhere, but certainly not to this extent to Snape's knowledge. The headmaster had informed him of the possession at the ministry, but also that the Dark Lord was expelled from Potter's mind very quickly. This however, was different. It wasn't a possession but nor was it the common and unintended connection through the lightening scar. Being in the dark about something always made Snape angry and dare he admit, nervous?

He had tried to contact Albus by floo, but he was not in his office so he had sent a letter as soon as he had patched the boy up, but the headmaster was clearly out on business as he had not had a reply. He did not think this reason enough to send a patronus. No one was dead or dying and he didn't want to make fuss over nothing. A letter was suitable to explain what had happened and Dumbledore could visit when suitable. There was no lasting damage and the professor could handle anything that wasn't too serious. He just needed to make sure Potter kept up his regular dose of potion as well as a few blood replenishers and any other pain relief he might require. The Gryffindor looked peaceful enough now at least, so Madame Pomphrey was not necessary.

A few hours passed and still the boy slept and still Malfoy remained hidden. Snape had finally had enough of the silence, something he usually savoured and decided he had better go check on the blonde boy. Potter was in no danger at the moment regardless and he detested sitting there like some sort of nursemaid.

With one glance back at the pale Harry, he left the room, leaving the door open just in case and ascended the staircase. As he passed through the house he noted how dark the place even felt, even after being used by the order for so long. He couldn't imagine Sirius Black growing up here and he smirked at the thoughts of Mrs Black's portrait. What a charming mother the rabid dog had.

He didn't bother knocking on Malfoy's door, but simply spoke sharply.

"Draco?"

There was no answer only silence, so he opened the door stealthily, ready to berate him for hiding for so long. However he stopped as he saw the boy asleep atop the four poster bed inside. He was still dressed in his day clothes, hinting that he had not meant to fall asleep. Snape however, was satisfied. At least he hadn't been up here moping. Closing the door, he decided to have a cup of coffee. He was beginning to feel tired, but had no intentions of sleeping.

After two cups and a half-hearted glance at the previous day's newspaper which he had already read, he looked at the time. It was now into the early hours of the morning.

Scowling at nothing he stood up and decided to see if Potter was awake. He didn't want to enervate the boy, it was always safer to let someone wake up on their own after an injury, unless completely necessary. Dusting off his robes, he left the room. As he walked the hallway he noted how cold it had suddenly gotten, there was an uncomfortable chill through the house. Entering the sitting room he hoped Malfoy would have the sense to actually get into bed if he awoke. Taking a side glance at Harry, he was slightly irritated the boy had not yet woken, however he had moved in his sleep, which may signal he was beginning to stir.

Noting the empty fireplace, the fire having long since died, he cursed and strode over the grate. No wonder it was so bloody cold. Pulling out his wand he filled the grate with hot flame, relishing it somewhat and staring into its depths. Snape was tired of being cooped up. His betrayal to the Dark Lord had cost him his freedom and his usefulness for the order. He was reduced to babysitter and brewer. Brewer he could take, babysitter he could not. So engrossed in his bitter contemplation, he never noticed the green eyes behind him snap open.

Xxxxx

Harry had not been aware of existence, lost in unconsciousness, until the pain began to stir within him. He wasn't sure when he had started screaming, his body suddenly aflame, his scar searing across his forehead, his chest threating to burst open as his heart fought to be free of its confines. He couldn't move, he couldn't hear, too aware of the pain that captured him.

Without movement he couldn't fight, but there was no-one to fight. He seemed alone. But he wasn't. And that became all too clear when suddenly dim light filled his vision as his eyes snapped open without his consent. Screaming louder in his head, he tried to gain control, feeling his arm lift itself from where his body lay, but it was useless. Even the screams he let loose in his mind didn't move his actual mouth to even a twitch. Horrified and terrified, he could only watch as the world tilted, feeling himself stand.

Then his body began to walk around the room, in an alarmingly casual manner. If he was more aware of himself, he would have felt that his face was curled into a smirk without his consent.

Feeling as if he was fighting the petrificus totalus curse, he tried to twitch a hand, anything, but his body was completely disconnected from his mental awareness.

The pain seared up worse than ever and he felt blinded, until it dulled down again and he was more aware of his body's independent actions. Despite the lack of another literal presence, Harry was left in no doubt as to what this was and who was doing it. This was possession.

He suddenly became aware of a cold object, now held in his right hand and he felt his eyes roll down to look at it. Taken unwillingly from the library shelf and held firmly in an unwanted grip, was a long thin and rather beautiful steel letter opener, with a gilt handle. It was clearly old and probably valuable… and extremely sharp looking, the blade being thin but well carved on one side, so as to cut parchment better. The point was slightly blunter than the side, as was typical of letter-openers, but no doubt with enough force it would be deadly. Harry knew as much and he fought like a maniac against the power holding him when the object was easily pushed up into his sleeve, well concealed, before he returned to the couch, lying down in a similar position, forced to be silent and still.

It was a moment of complete horror and desperation when Severus Snape entered the room, glancing at Harry. Harry's eyes were forced shut, feigning sleep, but he could hear the man stepping toward the fireplace, before the telling sound of a crackling fire popped in the room.

Once more, green eyes snapped open, his body rising like a snake, silent and deadly. Harry fought, screamed, bit and wrenched himself, trying to escape the magic, but his body didn't waver in its control.

The intent of his puppeteer was crystal clear when the sharp object was slipped from his sleeve and clutched tightly in his hand, the point facing its intended target.

Harry was suddenly frozen in fear, watching the scene from his own eyes, as his body stepped right up behind Severus Snape, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

From somewhere in his mind, Harry felt slimy satisfaction and glee that was not his own and he prayed and wished for the opportunity to warn the professor, but it was too late.

Snape, having finally turned back around from the fire, intent upon checking Harry once more, found himself face-to-face with the most dead green eyes he could have imagined.

Harry gave out a final mental scream as his arm suddenly shot forward, driving the make-shift weapon straight into his once hated potions professor's gut. The sound of the thud would never leave Harry, not would the absolute shock in the obsidian eyes in front of him. Snape's pale face seemed to drain even more and a slight intake of breath was silenced as the length of steel was suddenly wrenched out and straight back in again, slightly to the left of the previous mark.

The twisted smile on Harry's face which Snape had witnessed fell off quicker than one could imagine as Harry seemed to be shoved back into control, a laughter suddenly ringing in his ears that had not come from his own body. As soon as he was there, the scream that had been silenced tore through him and shot through the house, just as the potions master sank to his knees, blood now seeping and staining his robes.

"No…" The Gryffindor said it in a whisper.

Harry sank with him, hand still unknowingly clutching the blade, eyes wide with horror. His knees hit the floor and he was suddenly aware of the crimson fluid coating his hand as Snape's mouth opened and closed, struggling for speech due to the two holes fashioned in his stomach.

Harry grabbed at the man's shoulders, preventing him from leaning back toward the fire and he looked around, absolutely panicked, a million thoughts flying through his brain, sweat pouring down his forehead.

"No, no this can't-"

"_Look what you did Harry."_

His eyes flew wide as he tried to keep a grip on the potions master and look around for the voice, before realising it was coming from his own head.

"_You killed him."_

He could hear someone going _'tut-tut'_ mockingly and it drove him mad, he felt like pleading and cursing all at the same time.

Desperate to do something, he laid the barely conscious Snape on the floor, blood now beginning to seep onto the floor and into the cracks. Harry noticed the potions kit on the ground beside the couch he had been asleep and he dove toward it, just as Malfoy crashed through the door, having heard the scream, blood leaving his face as he absorbed the scene.

"Help me! Professor Snape he- just help, please!"

It may have been the serious tone of Harry's voice and the slight desperation, but Malfoy was shook from his daze. Snape was now unconscious and alarmingly still and stiff.

"I don't know any serious healing spells!" he ran over and knelt beside the other Slytherin.

Harry felt it would be stupid to point out that neither did he. But he continued his mad search through the vials and bottles.

"Dittany, essence of dittany will save him- there's none in here!"

"I'll keep searching, you send a patronus to Dumbledore or floo him or something!"

They were both nearly shouting now, their panic evident.

"Not enough time! Wait- there'd be some in the lab…wand, where's my wand?! Malfoy summon essence of Dittany!"

After fumbling to get his wand out quickly the blonde did as he was bid and Harry nearly collapsed with relief as it came zooming into the room. He grabbed the bottle and dived toward the potions master, smacking his knees into the floor as he did. Grimacing, but too terrified to hesitate, he pulled the letter opener from his professor's body, wincing at the squish-like sound as it was removed. He swallowed at the amount of blood that followed, before administering three drops to each stab wound, nearly shouting in relief as they began knitting themselves together.

"You send a patronus to Dumbledore, I don't know where my wand is" Harry said hurriedly, not even looking at the blonde, still too focused on the man he had very nearly murdered.

It took Malfoy two tries but finally a silver blur shot past Harry, and then Malfoy knelt beside him, pushing two blood replenishers into Harry's hands. Ironically, these had intended to be for Harry, but now they would save the one who should have administered them. Uncorking one he managed to get most of the contents into the professor's mouth. Too afraid to try anything further, in case he mixed unsuitable potions, Harry sat back on the ground, watching and letting it sink in. He had almost murdered Snape. He shook his head ever so slightly, guilt beginning to swallow him, watching as Malfoy had the sense to place a cushion under the greasy-haired man's head. Both boys were white as ghosts as they sat there in the dim light.

Xxxxx

Voldemort was far more pleased this time. That was the perfect message delivered to both Potter and Snape, all wrapped up in a delightfully bloody bow. He knew that Snape would not die. It was inevitable that the boy would save him and though the two given wounds could have killed him, it would have taken a few minutes for him to bleed out, giving Potter plenty of time to act. But this would be a lesson to them both. It should teach Snape that he chose the wrong side and was accessible anywhere and it would not only teach Harry a lesson in what his opponent was capable of, but would instil a fear of himself and his proximity to others. Voldemort knew that if Harry didn't trust himself, he would not trust himself around others. It was the ultimate fault in hero-types.

If a wedge came between them and Potter made any attempts to go it alone, he would be all the more easy to capture. Safety in numbers was a particularly infuriating and effective manner in survival.

The Dark Lord decided that traumatising the boy further was simply a bonus in any case.

Severus also needed to be punished physically and what better way to do it than through the one he sought to protect. It was a glorious turn of events.

Voldemort let Nagini curl around his shoulders, knowing she sensed his good mood, and he whispered sweet nothings to her.

He wondered what his next move would be. Things were starting to escalate nicely and it would not be long before he himself entered the fray. Draco had told him of the many months that Potter had been imprisoned in the future and though he relished the idea, it had clearly been a mistake at the end of it all. But he faced the challenge of killing the boy without destroying the horcrux. Due to its placement in a human being, Voldemort supposed that it could be destroyed a lot more easily than If in an object. The objects required the destruction to be irreparable magically, but flesh and bone was more fragile and the magic mix might create a more fragile horcrux. It was a complicated situation.

The blade his future-self had sent back was capable of carrying out the deed and he agreed with himself that it would be rather poetic for the blade to finish what it started. Too many failed attempts with Avada Kedavra had proved that it was not a suitable death for Harry Potter. The poisoned blade he now had in his possession was not simply poisoned to cause an agonising death, it was a specifically brewed poison which would bring about the death of the victim, but the body would still be suitable to encase his horcrux. The belladonna and blood loss would kill, while the unicorn blood would work to preserve the horcrux. If he wished to kill the boy quickly, he could plunge the blade into his flesh and let the blood loss do its work and the horcrux should still remain untouched due to the unicorn blood. The poison was an extra measure, in case of escape or simply to provide a more agonising and humiliating death. Voldemort wasn't fussed over a slow or fast end, for they both brought about the same results, however, a slow death which would have occurred with Harry already, had the poison not been countered, left time for the provision of an antidote. Potter had gotten away from his future self before the deed was finished, thus he was healed, saving him from bloodless and provided with an antidote, saving him from the poison. Both measures taken to ensure death were foiled and it was not acceptable.

He wondered if he should fashion another method of extracting the horcrux safely, but that would take time. He would also have to find another object to hold the horcrux. He found the idea of using the boy's corpse rather suitable. It would be a trophy, as all his other vessels had been, perhaps of a more unusual nature but it would be safer not to transfer it, even at the risk of a flesh vessel being more perceptible to destruction.

There was an added bonus. He doubted if anyone from the order came across the body, their consciences would let them destroy the boy.

He chuckled darkly as he weighed the pros and cons, deciding to wait and see what was more suitable at the time. All in all it had been a very productive evening. He had taken possession of Dumbledore's precious golden boy and gotten a taste of Severus' blood. Success was in the air.

xxxxx

Dumbledore had arrived after several minutes and had immediately delivered Snape to the hospital wing under strict security. The St Mungo's healer whom had replaced Madame Pomphrey had reported he would be fine after a few days recovery thanks to the quick actions of whoever had healed him. He required observation for a night in the hospital and could then return to hiding, given that Harry and Malfoy would aid him in certain things.

Dumbledore had then returned to Grimmauld Place. Harry and Malfoy were not to leave it due to safety reasons, so he informed them of Snape's condition.

Harry had then quietly told the headmaster what had happened, while a very pale Malfoy sat on an armchair.

Of course the headmaster had no blame for Harry, but the situation was alarming. He made sure the boy took the required potions after his ordeal and ordered Draco to take a calming draught.

Voldemort had not been able to achieve this level of mental manipulation before this and from what Harry told them, he hadn't gone to such an extent in Harry's future either. So this was a new path.

Seeing it was dangerous now for Harry and for the young Malfoy, Dumbledore devised a temporary solution. Clearly the basic occlumency Harry possessed could not prevent these events. He spent over twenty minutes with his wand at Harry's temple, much to Harry's discomfort, creating a magical mental barrier. Harry questioned why this had not been done previously and Dumbledore explained that it was not a long-term solution. It would only be effective for three days at most and any longer could be potentially damaging to Harry's mind and magical core, due to the sheer amount of magic used. However the circumstances were dire and this was the only solution at the current moment. When he had finished, he assured Harry and Draco it would be safe at least for a few days from this type of intrusion and he would check up on them every few hours until Snape returned to them the next day.

Harry and Malfoy both agreed to aid Snape's recovery at Grimmauld Place, Harry most particularly, as he was the one who inflicted the need for recovery. It was unsafe for the potions master to remain elsewhere for too long.

Just before he left and out of Malfoy's earshot, Dumbledore murmured to Harry that it might be the best idea to begin an advanced form of occlumency in order to permanently combat Voldemort's actions. Harry didn't think it appropriate to point out that occlumency had not worked previously, so he just nodded glumly.

Before he exited, the headmaster, with a serious look in his eyes, told Harry that this was not his fault. Naturally, Harry didn't believe him. Voldemort would have smiled.

xxxxx


End file.
